Demiglace Graffiti
by ToastedPine
Summary: [Ranma Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi cross] Ranma has a daughter as headstrong as he is, god have mercy on us all. No knowledge of the latter series required so dive right in!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Ranma and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi are not mine.

Friendly reminder: Knowing Ranma One-half is the only requirement for understanding this fic. I'll be giving all the necessary information about The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi as needed.

Demiglace Graffiti: Prologue

By ToastedPine

When was it when I should have noticed something strange about Haruhi? Probably since the day she was born. She was stronger than any of the other kids, always lively and independent. The energy she had then continues even now, and I cherish seeing it every day. Heh, yeah, what I'm saying sounds like the typical fatherly thing: my daughter is special and I want the world to know. A decade or so back, I wouldn't have been able to imagine myself in such a position. Actually, most of my visions of the future back then involved me being dead for one reason or another: insane martial arts challengers, toxic cooking, dying of a fever from being splashed with water one too many times. Heck, maybe Ryoga finding a genie and having him wish me dead. You can see why I made a lot of mistakes back then—thinking even a few minutes into the future was pretty depressing.

Back to more important stuff, I should have known that Haruhi's strength wasn't normal, but it didn't seem like a big deal (she had my blood after all). Boy was I wrong. My wakeup call came on the night of Tanabata. It was another event in a long series that showed I really was as big an "insensitive freak" Haruhi's mother claimed I was...

"Suzumiya, Suzumiya!" the angry, piercing yell echoed through my skull. Looking up, I saw my new boss, Yamazaki. He was a scrawny willow of a man who managed to carry a bark worse than his bite.

"Suzumiya, why the hell don't you respond when I call you? It's as if you don't even know your own name."

Heh, you don't know that half of it, but that's not a story I'll ever tell you. Jerk, making me work on Tanabata. I told Haruhi I'd take her to the festival, not that I'm certain she was even listening to me at the time...

Shrugging, I swiveled my chair back towards my desk and shuffled through a stack of papers. "I told you, Ranma's fine." I found the finished sketches and handed them to him. "Here."

He frowned while pushing his narrow frameless glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. The lenses covered his squinty eyes completely. They say that if you hold an expression long enough, your face would get stuck that way. The narrow slits beneath his eyebrows seemed permanent. He calmly took the papers from my hand and surveyed my work. I guess he wasn't really mad. "As expected, Suzumiya, your reputation precedes you. I'm glad I won you over to our side."

"Eh, this is closer to home," I said, shrugging in a way calculated to set him off.

Strangely enough, all he did was bow to me.

"I deeply apologize for making you work tonight. I needed to ensure that new employees like you are committed to YS. I humbly ask you to take the rest of the day off and accept the bonus I will be giving you at the end of the week as compensation."

Okay, he wasn't a jerk, but he didn't have to test me like that. I had my honor... maybe. He hadn't done me that much of a favor since there was only an hour left before quitting time.

A short bus trip later, I was about to open the door to our apartment when I felt a chill run down my spine. This wasn't your regular, I've-been-caught-with-an-amorous-amazon-warrior-in-my-bath kind of chill, this was worse, like the time right before Soun came back from the doctor.

Something was up. Something big.

It may seem like an overreaction, but I had trained since I could walk to trust my instincts. It was a hard habit to break.

"Haruhi!" I door splintered violently into a totally empty apartment. Where was she? I concentrated hard, sensing the different life forces in and around the building.

I felt her to the west. She must be at school. Running straight for the window of our second story apartment, I jumped out. It may have been more than a decade since I left Nerima behind completely, but I still hadn't lost my touch.

Unfortunately, I had gotten so used to walking that having a community pool right next to our building never registered as an important fact.

…until then.

"Crap!" I cursed while trying to swim through the air. Who would have thought that my water-magnet days would come back to haunt me?

After dragging myself out of the water, I rushed to the school. Thankfully, I spotted her standing on the schoolyard, her back turned. Her body was small, but she was always had her head high- confident and larger than life. "Haruhi!" I called while waving. Only then did I notice the… bounce. Gurk!

I jump into the branches of a nearby tree before she could see my curse.

"What was that?" Haruhi asked, facing my direction. There was a guy behind her a few meters away. Classmate? No, he was too old. And why would they meet up here at school at... 8:30 PM? Boyfriend? Over his dead body!...which, might make Haruhi stop talking to me for good…. Arrghh! I didn't know- she never tells me anything important anymore.

I took a deep breath slowing the rapid beating in my chest. "Okay Ranma," I muttered, "watch and wait." If that pervert so much as touches her, he'd be a smear on the pavement.

Author's Notes: Many thanks to Fallacy and the people at Night for helping me out with this idea.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Ranma and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi are not mine.

Friendly reminder: Knowing Ranma One-half is the only requirement for understand this fic. I'll be giving all the necessary information about The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi as needed.

Demiglace Graffiti: Chapter 1

With movements long ago ingrained, I took off my shirt and wrung the water out. As the water dripped to the earth below, a hollow metallic rattling came from the yard. I should have expected what I saw when I looked to see where it was coming from, but I didn't.

The guy, who I'm guessing was a high-school student from his height and his teal jacket, was pushing a tin cart that was used to draw lines on the field. Haruhi was pretty much a model student. Her grades were impeccable, and she never caused any real trouble in class. What the principal called her "extracurricular activities" however, were another bucket of fish guts entirely. I've had to apologize on her behalf for the stars painted on ceilings, hallways filled with desks, and the talismans to the dead plastered all over walls. Could I have been that bad at her age?

I couldn't have been- I was too busy fighting to survive.

Right?

From her vantage point on the hill, Haruhi was shouting orders at the unfamiliar boy. Sorry kid, I see now that you were just unlucky, a random stranger she pulled off the street to draw strange lines on the field. What was she up to? I should have put a stop to whatever stunt she's pulling, but what right did I have? By the time I had a chance to become a part of her life, it was too late. Haruhi had been able to take care of herself, and I was working to provide her with enough to get by. Living in the city was expensive. Someone had to put food on the table.

I stayed for a little while longer before deciding to wait for her at home. I had to change back anyways. My wet polyester slacks were cold and clingy, and then there were repairs the door. It was dark, but I wasn't worried. I'd know if Haruhi was in trouble, and the neighborhood was pretty safe.

After a quick shower, I stepped out the bathroom toweling my short-boxed beard dry. Thankfully, the beard goes away on my girl-side, though I hadn't needed to think about that in a while.

What, you're wondering why I have a beard. Mostly, it was to make me look older. After I hit my twenties, time seemed to slowdown for me. I still aged, but nowhere near the rate of the average Joe. Haruhi's mother had given me the idea. I even cut off my pigtail and started combing. I my old clothes had to go too. I resisted at first, but she was right in the end; changing how I looked made me less of a freak, and saved a lot of trouble for everyone in general.

To Haruhi in particular, the reality is that I'm Ranma Suzumiya, her clean-cut, boring father. Ranma Saotome, and the complications that came with him, is nothing. Not even a memory.

Haruhi arrived moment later. Her brows were slightly knit, eyes half open, and front teeth biting a thumbnail. Was she annoyed, angry, and in deep thought at the same time? I had no idea. She didn't notice the shiny new hinges or the door lock.

"Haruhi," I said, arms folded. That's it Ranma. Fatherly. Stern.

"Father," her eyes widened, "you're home."

I would have forgiven anything if you had been happy too instead of just surprised. Do I mean that little to you? Is this what I deserve for staying away? I always seem to ask questions without answers when you're involved.

"I took a new job so I could be at home more. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that you haven't been at home much either. I was hoping to catch the fireworks together," I sulked, "but those will be over by the time we arrive at the festival."

The reaction was almost automatic and far from what I expected. A neutral mask slipped onto her features like the setting sun.

She bowed deeply. "I apologize, father. I was participating in extracurricular duties."

Like hell you were!

I sighed, and tried to smother my irritation. "Okay, I don't mind you staying out late. Next time, give me a call when you have plans."

"Understood, father. May I be excused? I have some homework to finish. Your dinner is in the refrigerator if you haven't eaten yet."

I tried to read her expression, but not even her eyes seemed to have any color in them. Where was the girl with the thousand-watt smile who used to call me her "Old man"? I know I wasn't around for you, but do I deserve to be shut out like this after your mom left us?

"All right, you may go. I'll come to tuck you in later." I smiled awkwardly.

The soft thud of a closing door was her only response.

You're probably wondering why I didn't bring up her stunt at school. We'd just get into an argument. After that, she'd stop talking to me for a while. I don't have much room to complain. Haruhi was a good daughter all things considered. She was normal, and her quirks were easily forgivable.

My interaction with Haruhi for the next three years didn't change much after that day. I tried everything I could think of to get through to her. I gave her expensive gifts, brought her out, cooked her favorite food -hundreds of attempts that got me nowhere.

Sometimes my efforts would make her cranky. Whenever that happened, I'd get this feeling of doom. Come to think of it, whenever Haruhi was going through a rough patch, I'd sense it. There were nights I snuck over to her room to hold her hand until the feeling that the world was going to end went away.

In the end, nothing happened, but I needed to cope with not being ready for disaster. I grew back my pigtail, shaved my beard, and wore my old style of clothes. The whole process took a while, and was more painful than it ought to have been. I found myself resisting almost every return, but the struggle kept me occupied and helped me cope.

As for Haruhi's reaction to my transformation, I never worked up the courage to ask her. She herself got into the habit of styling her hair differently each day. I'd like to think that was her silent way of telling me she was okay with the change.

123123

One morning, a little more than a month into the new school year, I woke feeling like I'd gone thirty rounds with Happosai. It was odd since I hadn't had a bad morning in decades. Shaking the sleep and fatigue off, I went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Haruhi awoke shortly after, and looked to have suffered the same fate. She wobbled to the dining table, her head dropping like a rock once her butt found a seat.

The sound of her head striking the tabletop was a little louder than expected.

"Didn't sleep well Haruhi?" I asked from in front of the stove.

"No, I'm fine fa-"

Curious about her unfinished sentence, I turned to see what was wrong. Haruhi was wide-eyed, mouth agape, and pointing a shaking finger at me.

She looked pretty funny, especially with her hair sticking out in all directions like the legs of a crab.

"Hey, what's wrong? Don't tell me you're still dreaming?" I asked before I noticed the difference in her eyes. I could see color in them again. They were a bright, pale amber that merged into deep, dark orange towards her irises.

"Are you okay?" I touched my forehead to hers to check her temperature, getting closer to the eyes I'd hoped so long to see. The emotions were clear, first disbelief, then confusion, and then finally, recognition.

"Old man?" she almost blew out my eardrums.

"What?" I stuck a pinky in my ear to get rid of the ringing. I could have sworn she called me "Old-"

With a grin that must have split my face in two, I grabbed her shoulders. "What did you call me?"

"Old... Man?" Haruhi said slowly, as if sounding out the words for the first time.

I hugged her for all I was worth. "Welcome back to the land of the living. Where did you go?"

"I, I was-I don't know," she said before giving me the onceover. "When did you turn into a..."

I puffed out my chest. She'd finally see me as her father, the best martial artist in the world.

"...A hippie."

I should clean the floor more often. I never knew when I'd end up eating it.

"I'm not a hippie!"

"An ascetic?"

"No."

"A hermit?"

"We live in a city."

"Then you ARE a hippie."

Can't argue with that logic. Bah! Listen to what I have to say!

Unfortunately, it seemed that Haruhi had finished classifying me and was already out the door. When had she finished her breakfast? I forgot about her tendency to dismiss people once she thought the conversation was over, or lost interest, or couldn't find the answer she wanted… or a combination of the three.

Later that morning, I felt another shiver -this one was different though- familiar like an old enemy, but I couldn't quite remember what it meant.

I got my answer soon after coming home from work. I was riffling through my keys when the door slowly opened on its own.

There was a young girl kneeling on the other side. She was very cute- nice heart-shaped face, pale pink lips, and small body wrapped in a white wedding kimono. Her hazel hair and eyes were partially covered beneath a large, matching veil that did little to hide her trembling.

"Ah." She turned her head mechanically to the side as if to read a cue card. "I'm Mikuru Asahina. I'll be your temporary wife," she squeaked, hitting high notes I didn't think were possible. "I-I'll be in your care from now on!" She finished her introduction by leaning forward and touching her head to the floor.

"Sorry, I must have the wrong house," I said before gently closing the door.

This was crazy! Was it pop? No, it couldn't be him, but it has to be him. No one else would be irresponsible enough, thoughtless enough, impulsive enough-

The little gears ground to their inevitable conclusion and an idea formed.

'Twitch,' went the vein on my forehead.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Akuma-sama for doing a rough beta read, and to Fallacy for knocking the kinks out.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Ranma and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi are not mine.

Friendly reminder: Knowing Ranma One-half is the only requirement for understand this fic. I'll be giving all the necessary information about The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi as needed.

Demiglace Graffiti: Chapter 2

by ToastedPine

A marriage, two people in love share this life, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death they do part.

Those are empty promises. Marriage is living together while avoiding each other as much as possible, as a drunken man in a bar once told me, "cohabitation without coexistence."

Which leads me to this talk with Haruhi...

"Tell me again what you were thinking?" I asked, sitting at the kitchen table while pinching the bridge of my nose with two fingers. The Soul of Ice had long abandoned, melting against Haruhi's onslaught like a snowball in hell.

A cup of tea appeared thanks to my...temporary wife. She had teleported out of reach even before the cup had finished wobbling. Her light brown eyes were trained on me like she'd die if she blinked, much like a little bunny cornered by a hungry wolf.

I tried not to think about who the wolf was in that situation.

"You need a woman to keep you stable. You're already going crazy without one!" Haruhi said, throwing her hands into the air.

"Hey, who ya callin' —uh... what are you talking about? I'm not crazy," I said, a cold sweat gathering from the slip.

Haruhi's eyes narrowed. "See, you're even starting to talk weird. Mikuru will be here until I find you a permanent one." She said with all the finality of an executioner's axe.

"What was that last part? I could've sworn you used the word 'permanent'."

She reared back and pointed at me, completely ignoring my question. "And look at these clothes! I don't mind you changing your taste in fashion, but don't do it so quickly. You should be more considerate of my feelings."

"I started wearing this stuff more than a year ago. I didn't hear you complaining then."

Why did I want her talking to me again?

Haruhi turned around and swiftly marched to her room. "I have something to do tomorrow. Goodnight." Her door slid shut only to slide open again a second later. "Mikuru!" she barked.

"Hii-" The rabbit –err- girl jumped, "Y-yes?"

"You don't need to go searching with us tomorrow. I'll tell the Brigade you're on an important side quest." Haruhi ended her announcement and the door once again closed.

"Okay..." Mikuru slumped, her sagging shoulders screaming a quiet resignation.

Getting off my chair, I walked around her and bent down. "You can call me Ranma. How may I address you?"

She gasped, "I couldn't...Mr. Suzumiya." Her hand covered her mouth as she spoke. The girl had a different kind of aura; it was sweet and fluffy like cotton candy but with the subtle tartness of strawberries.

Chuckling, I gently took one of her hands in mine. "It's fine, you're my temporary wife from now on." I smiled my best smile, trying to make it obvious that I didn't take the title seriously. "May I call you Mikuru from now on, or should I go with…Honey?"

Her face flushed so red that I almost busted a lung to keep from laughing. "N-no... Mikuru is okay."

"Alright, Mikuru it is." I looked out the window—the daylight was almost gone. "Hmm, it's already dark out, do you have a change of clothes?"

She looked at the school bag leaning against the wall before shaking her head.

I sighed. Haruhi, did you drag this poor girl here without warning? Well, neither her parents nor the police were banging down the door so I guessed everything was okay.

Releasing Mikuru's hand, I headed for the closet. "I think I have a set of Haruhi's pajamas that will fit you, then we'll see about preparing a futon. Worse comes to worst, you can sleep in my room and I'll take the couch-"

"Oh, please don't, Mr. Suzumiya," Mikuru insisted, "I wouldn't want to impose."

I almost cried- life would be so good if Haruhi were more like her!

"Now Mikuru, I told you to call me Ranma."

"Um...okay, Ranma."

"Good." I nodded. "Treat this as your home from now on. It's the least I can do after getting you caught up in all this."

"...no trouble at all," she said with her head down.

The rest of the night passed smoothly. We exchanged a lot of pleasantries, but I didn't find out much about her. She had stood firmly behind her wall of politeness, which I should have found suspicious: "Mikuru" and the word "Firm" in the same thought violated all sorts of universal of laws. Even I could tell that much right after meeting her.

Score so far: universe, two; insensitive freak, zero.

The next morning, Mikuru and I were left at home. Haruhi had gone to do whatever it was that she did on the weekends so I called Yamazaki and asked if I could take the day off.

"Ah...please go. I don't mind staying here."

"Even if you say that..."

Mikuru was still dressed in the maid costume. The embarrassment radiating off of her was almost enough to bend the air. She had on a white apron with large frills on the sides, held in place by a large bow over a simple purple dress. The white maid's bonnet and frilly white cuffs were finishing touches that pushed her from the category of someone with weird taste in clothing into the category of a full-blown maid maniac.

Or she would be a maniac, if I hadn't known that the maniac responsible was my daughter.

"Let's make the best of this, Mikuru," I said, putting back the phone. "Is Haruhi your senior—wait, but she's in first year..." then it hit me, " You're her upper classman? You look so young."

She turned away, her cheeks coloring.

"Ehehe," I chuckled nervously. Did I say something wrong? With her innocent face and small body, she could blend right into a grade school. "Now I'm even more curious about how you got caught up in this mess. If this really is all Haruhi's fault," I winked, "I'm gonna have her apologize and punish her severely."

"Ah, no. No need to punish her." She begged, frantically waving her hands in front of her. "I..." she looked down. "I wanted to do this."

"Huh, why?" I asked while leading her to the kitchen table.

Mikuru took a moment to collect her thoughts. "This is all I can do to help her. Even though she doesn't seem to show it in front of you, she gets worried. She told me about how you changed so much. She thinks it's her fault for ignoring you, and I think she wants to say sorry but can't. So- so please, don't punish Haruhi."

Haruhi cares! Inner Ranma shed manly tears of joy. Soun, if you can hear me up there, I'm sorry for ever considering you a crybaby.

Mikuru hadn't raised her head since the beginning of her little speech. "What's wrong? Do you want to go home?" I began to stand. "I have a car, we can drive to your house right now-"

"I...never had a chance to know my parents."

I sat back down. That explained a lot. "Do you have a guardian?"

She squirmed a bit before answering, "Yes, they know I'm here."

Did she have family problems? It wasn't any of my business, and I didn't want to force anything. "You can stay here as long as you want, okay?"

Mikuru nodded, but said nothing. I hoped that she would open up to me eventually. In the mean time, I could give her a place to stay.

I stretched and decided that there was no reason to waste a day-off. "I'm going for a run, but I'll be back before lunch. There's some money on the shoe rack by the entrance so just call for takeout if you get hungry."

After a few dozen laps, I returned to an apartment which had transformed into a lemony fresh paradise.

"Woah." I looked around. The floors had lost a lot the little scuffs and scratches, the furniture was shiny, and even the shoe rack was free of dust.

"Ah, welcome back." Mikuru bowed, rag in hand. Did she really think she was a maid?

"You didn't have to do all this. It's so embarrassing having a guest clean the house."

"That's okay, I enjoy cleaning." She smiled.

"Uh, thanks. You did a great job."

"It was nothing," she said, fiddling with the rag and sending furtive glances in my direction.

"...Did you want something?" I asked, finally getting the message. Mikuru's overly reserved nature would take some getting used to.

Mikuru glanced at the hallway leading to the rooms. "I hope you don't mind, but I also cleaned the rooms."

"Why would I mind?" I asked, puzzled.

"I saw the sewing machine in Haruhi's room," she whispered as if she had found P-chan's dirty little secret.

"That thing? What about it?"

"It doesn't have a power cord."

I laughed. "It's one of those old sewing machines, you use your feet to power it."

"Eh?"

"I'll show you." We entered Haruhi's room. It hadn't changed much since the last time I visited. There were some posters on the wall for B-grade sci-fi movies and shelves full of manga.

The sewing machine was on the far corner by the bed. I sat in front of it for a second before turning to Mikuru. "May I see the seams on your costume?"

"Okay." Mikuru folded back one of her cuffs, and held it out to me.

I inspected the stitching. "This is Haruhi's work alright."

"How do you know?" she asked, amazed.

"The reinforcement here," I pointed at the zigzags. "Old machines like this don't have a reverse so the pattern is a bit uneven."

Mikuru's eyes widened. "You're very knowledgeable, Mr. Suzumiya."

"Ranma," I corrected.

She blushed. "Ah...Ranma."

"Heh. No, just this particular machine," I said, running a hand across the well-oiled black metal, and onto the silver driving wheel. "You see, money was pretty tight when Haruhi was little so we had to save on everything."

Mikuru sat on the bed, hands resting on her lap.

"School uniforms, clothes, blankets, I pretty much made them all for her." I left out that I got good by making disguises to trick my rivals. Hey, a poor martial artist had to have survival skills.

"When Haruhi got older, she told me to teach her so she could make stuff on her own. She learned quickly, but she was still too slow. Haruhi can do pretty much anything she puts her mind to, but she gets bored easily." I swiveled on the seat to face Mikuru, who nodded once with great conviction. Her eyes focused on a distant point like a war veteran recalling her haunting days in battle.

What in the world had Haruhi done to this girl?

I softly thumped the sewing table to nudge her back to the present. "And that's were this came in."

"I found it outside someone's house. There wasn't much wrong with it except for a few rusty parts and a broken belt. I fixed it, repainted it, and the rest is history. Haruhi is the only one who knows how to use this properly, but I know generally how it works. You power it this," I put the ball of my left foot on the lower left corner of the rectangular foot pedal under the machine while resting the heel of my right foot on the upper right corner. I rocked the pedal back and forth in a seesaw motion, which turned the drive wheel that drove the needle up and down.

"Waah," Mikuru's eyes glittered, and her fingers steeple together. "That's amazing! I never imagined sewing machines could be powered manually."

I blinked, what era did Mikuru live in? The machine was old, but even she should have some idea that old sewing machines didn't run on electricity.

She must have read the expression on my face because she suddenly got very nervous. "Um, I prepared lunch for us, a-allow me to get it ready." She scurried to the kitchen on her skinny legs.

After a lot of fumbling, and squeaking, Mikuru managed to get lunch ready. The octopus wiener stared back at me with its black sesame eyes before I bit off its head.

"I only know how to cook traditional bento recipes so..." Mikuru held a tray to her chest.

I smiled; she was so sweet. "This is great!" Haruhi's food was either overly extravagant or dead simple; there just was no middle ground with her. Mikuru, on the other hand, reminded me more and more of Kasumi—especially in her cooking. Even though the presentations were very different, the love in the details was clear. From perfectly round meatballs to the way the ingredients were blended together in just the right amounts, everything was made with care. Haruhi's mother had never been much of a cook, and neither was I. We had food, and it was edible, but it was nothing you could sit down and savor.

Mikuru hugged the tray. "I'm glad."

We eventually agreed on a loose schedule: Mikuru would to stay for one night or two nights on school days and regularly on the weekends. I worked something out with Yamazaki so I could get half days every Saturday. Haruhi had taken to 'hunting' for most of the day on weekends...though, what she hunted for on those days was a mystery.

Mikuru never talked much about herself. She avoided questions about her family and friends. I wondered why she was so secretive, then again I'm not exactly the best person to complain about her not being upfront. I made a promise to Haruhi's mother that Ranma Saotome never existed. More important though was my wish that Haruhi have the childhood she deserved. There would be no crazy training, no challengers, and, most of all, no curses, not if I have anything to do about it.

Little did I know that it would all come crashing down, starting with the strange actions of a seemingly normal, yet somewhat clumsy girl.

It had been about a month since the beginning of Mikuru's forced servitude. I was sitting at the kitchen table compiling a new set of drafts when I sensed someone tiptoeing behind me. Knowing it was Mikuru I kept working.

I was about to finish my first draft when I felt a weak tap to the back of my head.

"Poi-deh, hauuu..." I turned to see Mikuru clutching her forehead. On the floor beside her was a small mallet.

"Mikuru!" I knelt down. "Did you fall down and hit yourself on the head with this mallet?" I picked up the object in question; it was a wooden mallet with a red band painted down the middle.

"Hiii!" Mikuru shrieked.

"Huh? Don't tell me you were trying to knock me out with this little thing." I laughed. "If you want to knock someone out, you need to use a bigger mallet, at least ten times the size of this one."

"Heeeeh! I can't carry something that big..."

I could feel my teeth melting from the cuteness of her response. She was listening to what I was saying like she was seriously trying to knock… me… out. I paled.

Hey universe, if this is a joke, I ain't laughing!

I shook my head. No. Mikuru wouldn't do anything to harm me. Paranoia Ranma, paranoia is all you're experiencing- some type of delusion coming back from the old days. There's absolutely no reason to suspect that the old pattern was coming back; Mikuru isn't a real wife, women trying to kill me before marrying me were a thing of the past, and the curse hadn't acted up since Nerima… except for the pool thing, which was just me being careless.

"C'mon, let's get some ice for that bump." I helped Mikuru up, rubbing the red mark on her forehead as we stood. Suzumiya logic had beaten down Saotome fear with cold, calculating precision, and all was right with the world.

Author's Notes: Special thanks to Metroidvania, Kadunta, and Patrick for corrections, and again to Fallacy who helped me hunt for plot holes.

Longer chapter this time. Anyways, writing is all about you guys, the reader, so feel free to share your thoughts. I'll be here to listen.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Ranma and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi are not mine.

Friendly reminder: Knowing Ranma One-half is the only requirement for understand this fic. I'll be giving all the necessary information about The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi as needed

Author's Foreword: Sorry for the delay. I'd like to thank the reviews for the past chapters for their insights even though there wasn't much yet. You guys forced me to think, which made this story a lot better as a result.

Demiglace Graffiti: Chapter 3

By ToastedPine

"Tell Haruhi I'll be late," I said, slipping a pair of shoes. Haruhi wasn't home, as usual, but at least her absence gave me the chance to get the visit over with.

"Have a safe trip..." Mikuru said, holding a hand to her chest.

The summer sun shined in full force, pounding everything in sight. Despite that, the streets seemed less vibrant than it was supposed to be. I walked two blocks and bought a bunch of flowers that fit my mood then dragged my feet over to the train station.

I sat away from the other passengers and concentrated on the headrest in front of me. There was incessant coughing and chatting in the background, but that noise was soon drowned out by the engine's steady hum. With nothing to distract me, I had a lot of time to think about why exactly I was riding this train bound for Nerima...

123123

"Damnit!" I punched the ground where I sat cross-legged on the yard, my eyes squeezed tightly shut. Men didn't cry. I was a man. I could take it.

"Ranma..." Mom knelt next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"After all the doctors, how come they don't know what the heck is wrong with him? Happosai and Cologne were no help either."

"Have faith," Mom said. "We'll find a way."

"...I heard Nabiki and Kasumi talking the other day about flying to see foreign doctors. We don't have the money. Besides, there's a good chance they're just as worthless as the ones here. And why isn't pop be in there instead of at home drunk off his ass?" I demanded, thrusting a finger in the direction of Soun's room.

"Please understand, Genma's taken this the hardest. He has a big heart, despite what you think," she said.

"Feh, some friend he is."

"Ranma," She glared before letting her eyebrows gather, her eyes shining from unshed tears. "Please have faith. Everything will work out somehow."

123123

The sing-song tone of my stop blared through the tin of the train speakers. It had been a two hour ride. I briefly wondered if my mom was right. Maybe Soun would've lived had I kept faith. His body and ki had checked out. Nothing was wrong, nothing... except that he had been dying. Would a little faith have been enough to save the man?

It was said that Ranma Saotome never lost when it counted. Maybe that had stopped being true the day I stopped believing.

It was a short walk to the Tendo ancestral marker after exiting the train station. You couldn't really tell it apart from the rest, just as hard and grey all the other stone markers stretching into the horizon. The chunk of rock spoke nothing of the man fiercely devoted to his daughters- it simply stood casting a long, pale shadow.

Laying the flowers at the altar, I noticed that offerings were already present: a picture of a modern, white-washed building marked "Tendo Dojo", four oranges forming mini pyramid, some daffodils tied together with white ribbon, and the smell of sake. There was one offering missing, however. Maybe she didn't come this year. I wouldn't be surprised.

The staccato of high heels came from the path I had taken. I didn't turn. The sound was unmistakably Nabiki's. Out the corner of my eye, I could see that she hadn't changed much. Her posture was impeccable, standing tall in a black business suit that tastefully emphasized the taught muscle beneath.

She stood there, looking down at the marker, her entire demeanor giving nothing away. It could've been because she had picked up a trick or two from living around martial artists, or she might have had a natural talent for it- either way I was never able to read her emotions.

"I didn't think you were coming," I said without really considering my words. It was just so quiet between us.

She looked at me with hard blankness. Her hair was still that shade of dark brown she had passed onto Haruhi. She had grown it longer since I last saw her, the strands nearly touching her shoulder. Part of me wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, but now wasn't the time, and probably would never be again.

Her eyes were shards of ice. "You're alone."

I felt my temper rise at the hint of accusation in her voice. "Haruhi has her own business. It's not like she has any reason to be here anyways," I spat, and immediately regretted it. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Save it, Saotome."

I couldn't quite hide the wince. Even now, the distance she forced between us had its sting.

"She needs discipline. Look at you. You're not 16 anymore," she said, casting a significant glance at my pigtail. "Remember that you have a daughter to take care of."

"I've kept the promise." I glared, but couldn't put any heat into it. "She'll still in the dark about my past- our past. You're the one who left. Don't pin this on me. You don't know how hard it was watching her bottle everything up inside."

For a second, I thought I saw her defense crack, but I may as well have imagined it. "So… she's finally done sulking." Nabiki folded her arms, "It's about time. Life is hard. She should accept that sooner rather than later. You could probably learn a thing or two from her."

My knuckles whitened. When I spoke, it was a hoarse whisper. "You've been away too long to have any right to say that."

"Really?" She asked in a patronizing tone. "Well here's some news, Haruhi was like that much longer than you think. I wasn't the cause."

At my surprise, she bit out a short, bitter laugh. "You didn't know, did you? Of course not. All you had to do was go through the motions and go to work, all the while ignoring the fact that our family was falling apart."

The chill in her voice could have frozen fire. "You can make a show of worrying about her now, but where were you when she needed you? Where were you when WE needed you?"

"I..." Damn, the edge in her voice cut deep. I thought I had been fulfilling my responsibilities, acting in their best interest. Had I been deluding myself? Images of a crazed Kuno ran through my head. I felt sick.

When it was obvious that I couldn't say anything, she brushed past me and left a simple business card as an offering. She smelled awful: expensive perfume mixed with car leather, and... newly smoked tobacco?

'But, she doesn't smoke.' I thought as she walked away.

123123

Spacing out on the train became easy after a while. When I first gave up roof-hopping, I couldn't sit still. But as the years passed, I learned that numbing my mind helped me stay sane. Attracted by the streaking lights in the darkness outside the train's window, thoughts of Haruhi's mother were swept away by the city's currents, revealing more vivid scenes from the distant past...

123123

I sat by the wall, my eyes to the floor of Soun's room; there must have been a hundred people who had visited earlier. When the Town council heard that Soun didn't have much longer, they organized a formal gathering so that Soun could see his friends one last time. Folks from all over Japan came: neighbors, shop owners, policemen, and distant relatives-even a guy my age from Hokkaido. Soun knew them all by name and story. The visits stretched well into the evening. Kasumi was worried that he had been pushing himself, but Soun convinced her to let him be.

Crybaby, cowardly, weak-willed Soun Tendo, and yet, compared to him...

I had friends in numbers I could count on one hand, and an art with no direction. If I died tomorrow, there'd be a celebration. Pop was wrong, there had to be more to being a martial artist.

"Ranma, son, could you come closer?"

I got up and knelt by his bed. Soun had been pushing himself; the dark bags under his eyes had gotten worse. His cheeks were beyond shallow, sagging inwards and wrinkling. His hand, which I held in mine, was thin and dry.

After watching me with those sunken, glassy eyes, he began. "I've told Kasumi to marry Tofu. She's sacrificed so much for this family, I wish I could do more for her."

His distant look grew as he continued, "Guardianship of Akane and Nabiki has been signed over to the Suzumiya Family, effective on the day of my death. They're good people. I would've preferred to leave my girls to your mother, but she already has her hands full with Genma."

"Don't talk like you're going to die," I said, the plea sounding hollow even to my ears.

Soun's chuckles sounded like he was gasping for breath. "Are you kidding? I'll outlive the Master." He smiled wryly. "I'd like you to support them from now on, especially Akane. She's going to need you most after I'm gone. Please, I don't want her to burden Kasumi. It's selfish, I know, but I'm counting on you."

I held back my tears. Tenderly, I put my free hand overtop of his. "I swear on my honor as a martial artist, it'll be as if you were never gone."

"You're a good man. I would have been proud do have you as a son," he said, nudging me away. "Now go back to your room and get some rest, we'll talk more in the morning."

He lied. Soun died that night, not more than an hour or two after I left his room. Kasumi broke her engagement to Doctor Tofu and took charge the next day. Mom was disappointed when I told her I wouldn't be going home, but she understood and told me to do what I had to as a man.

123123

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Saotome, but you have no idea what's at stake here." Nabiki stormed into the room, throwing a pile of pictures at me. They were pictures of me in both forms, all of which were either blurred or at a really bad angle.

"So you finally noticed," I said from my place on the floor.

Nabiki frowned.

"I want to be part of keeping this dojo alive-"

"Oh, but you are-"

"Cut the crap Nabiki." I stood to glare at her.

Nabiki folded her arms, not even flinching as I stared her down. "I'm open to ideas."

"…don't got any," I mumbled, looking to the side.

"Che-good for nothing martial artists."

I bit back a retort. It was so easy to lash back at her- to make her hurt like I was hurting. Soun wouldn't do that though, so I swallowed hard and fought my twisting insides. "I...deserved that."

She stayed silent, observing.

"I'm an irresponsible free-loader who can only solve things with my fists, but please, there's got to be something else, something other than the photos." I thought about coming home to the dojo everyday, dinners we all ate together, morning battles- memories of home. "You Tendos...you Tendos are family."

"I'll think of something." Nabiki said evenly, sparing me a second look. "Don't disappoint me Saotome, or there will be hell to pay."

"Thank you," I said, feeling truly grateful to her for the first time.

For a while, things were fine. Nabiki had me doing odd jobs all over, and I was surprised how much a guy who could lift boulders with his bare hands was in demand. Nothing lasts forever though- the Nerima Witless Crew wouldn't leave me alone and the damages were coming out of my paycheck.

Then one day, I spotted Kasumi bowing to a bunch of old men at the doorstep. I recognized them from the visits, and they didn't seem too happy.

"I don't expect that this will be our last call. Good day, Ms. Tendo." The leader wearing a baggy black cotton jacket said, nodding his farewell. The other two wrinkled masses behind him were just as pleasant, reminding me of those snarling guardian statues that you see at the temple.

Kasumi bowed at their retreating forms. "Please come again."

I jogged up to her. "What's up?"

Kasumi gave no response as she creased her brow.

"C'mon Kasumi," I prodded.

Her shoulders sagged. "Those were the council representatives. There have been complaints, they're worried about the safety of the neighborhood."

"...but I tried so hard to keep from wreckin' stuff." I said, more to myself than anyone else. "Why now, why us? Ryouga and the others are just as responsible, heck they're the ones causing the damage." I clenched my fist. "I'm gonna go talk to them." I said, intending to go, but Kasumi's gentle tug may as well have been a fifty ton anchor.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing! When I get my hands on Ryouga and the rest, they're gonna be sorry too."

"That won't solve anything," she said quietly.

"How long...how long have you been keeping this from me?" I asked, realizing a deeper truth. She had thought this through, in detail, and for a very long time.

Kasumi couldn't even bring herself to meet my gaze. "I've been hearing rumors- that people were worried since before father died, but it wasn't until your second job that they came."

"You should've told me," I said.

"I'm sorry...if you must blame someone, then blame me."

I whirled around. "No way Kasumi! You're the kindest, sweetest, nicest person I know-"

"Please, listen!" Kasumi pleaded, finally looking up at me. I would rather have thrown myself down a jagged cliff than witness the pain and desperation she showed me that day.

"Even if your friends don't play with you so often, we both know someone else will," she said. "You're a martial artist, Ranma. It's only natural."

Reality hit me like a ton of bricks. It was the nature of my art. She was right.

"Father...father was what held us together. We took him for granted because he was always here, but it was because he was always here that we were able to live this peacefully. Without him, there's no one strong enough to rely on. I tried to take his place, to be reliable and responsible like he was, but...I failed."

The guilt I felt at Kasumi's admission was staggering. From the beginning, there was no way that she was to blame. Soun as a martial artist was more than physical strength. I still didn't understand completely, yet the answer was in front of me. One thing was sure- he wasn't around to clean up my messes anymore.

123123

Thinking of ways to lessen the load for everyone involved, I decided that the fiancee problem had to be handled first, but I was stumped. No matter which one I break it off with, all choices led to disaster. My mind basically ran in circles for a week until the answer literally fell from the sky.

I was on a park bench beside some vending machines, thinking through yet another scenario. 'Ukyo's probably the one who'll go most easy...' I thought, just before my danger sense went off.

"Saotome, you fiend!" Mousse dove at me from his perch on a streetlamp.

I lashed out with a high kick, flattening his face and suspending his body in mid-air before he dropped like a sac of rice. "At least wear your glasses first. Blind idiot, you almost destroyed another sign-post."

Picking himself up, he started ranting, "You can't fool me. It was you, you who defaced the Neko-Hanten! You even have civilians on your side, persecuting us!" Mousse narrowed his eyes. "I never thought you'd stoop so low."

I kicked him again. "You ain't makin' no sense. Now what's this about the Neko-Hanten getting busted up? Shampoo and Cologne are more than good enough to take on a few people. Where are they?"

Puzzled, Mousse wore his glasses and squinted. "I have no idea...Cologne splashed me with water, locked me in a cage, and tied it to a balloon. By the time I returned, the shop was in ruins. You're saying this is not your doing, Saotome?"

"Took you a while, genius," I said, smashing a fist into the top of his head. Why I had to deal with an idiot like Mousse was beyond me. Letting out a breath, I decided on a course of action. "Look, I'll go to the Neko-Hanten to see if I can find some clues. You search the town for the Old Ghoul and Shampoo."

I frowned as Mousse disappeared in a random direction. He actually listened, which could be a sign of how serious the situation was. Whatever the case, I was going to get to the bottom of it.

123123

It didn't take me long to land in front of the Neko-Hanten. What Mousse said hadn't really registered until I saw the place for myself.

"What the..." I trailed off, cold numbness settling. It should've been packed with people at rush hour; instead, the windows had been boarded up, covering the shattered glass, and the roof-mounted sign, while still standing, had a few large splintered holes that rendered it unreadable.

The events of what happened got clearer as I neared. There had been a mob throwing rocks, and carrying blunt weapons. One group stormed in- the long scrapes on the doorframe showed that they were fast and very angry. There was probably another group that stayed outside, writing graffiti all over the walls. "Vandals, outsiders, destroyers of the peace," painted in messy black strokes. I tilted my head to read "disappear" scrawled diagonally on the pavement.

I stepped on a torn welcome mat and went inside. It wasn't too dark- stray beams were filtering in through the boards. Tables and chairs that weren't bolted down were all stacked in one corner, the small mountain they formed smelling like spoiled ramen. There must've been some customers when the mob struck, flipping over tables and smashing anything less sturdy. At another corner was the old silk screen divider that used to show a pretty picture of the Chinese mountains, now it was just a pile of junk. I shut my eyes tight, trying to still the unexpected trembling. The Amazons had been run out of town; I should've been dancing for joy. "Damn," I said through clenched teeth, wishing the restaurant were back to normal. That was when I sensed someone coming from the kitchen.

"Shampoo," I said relieved after seeing her walk into the light. "What happened here? Why didn't you stop them?"

"Ranma," she said and shook her head.

"You were hiding from Mousse weren't you- where's the Old Ghoul?" She was here; where Shampoo was, Cologne wouldn't be far behind.

Shampoo didn't answer and fell into a fighting stance instead. With one open hand raised in front at chest level, and the other clenched into a fist at her waist, she sent a wordless challenge through her eyes.

"You can't be serious," I said, barely believing the ridiculousness of it all. I knew Amazon's must've been all kinds of stupid, but this took the cake.

Shampoo, sensing my hesitation, dashed forward, unleashing a series of light punches. I backpedaled, blocking easily as Shampoo pushed forward.

"Shampoo, quit it!" I said while using a palm to deflect a blow meant for my gut. Unfortunately, she still managed to graze my side, stinging it fiercely. I spun with the momentum, retaliating with a wide sweeping kick, forcing her back. 'The heck, she barely nicked me. Training?' I strained to remember all the times I've seen her fight, and almost got caught by a slow leg sweep for my inattention.

"Fight," Shampoo demanded, upping the ante with the Chestnut Fist. I had to make a decision: block and take a lot of damage, or counter and hit her. Grimacing, I launched my own hail of rapid punches. Waves of fists clashed evenly for a little while, but I was faster. "There!" I spotted an opening and slammed a fist into her left shoulder, launching her into the air.

After tucking into a roll to slow her descent, Shampoo landed on her feet.

"Give it up Shampoo, the Chestnut Fist may be an Amazon technique, but I've mastered it. There's no way you can beat me," I said with confidence I didn't have. Shampoo had been hiding her true skills. I couldn't believe that I hadn't realized until then. The Xi Fa Xiang Gao required the speed of the Chestnut Fist, and she wasn't the village champion for nothing. That was why her sword strikes were so easy to avoid when she chased pop and I all over China, and why her attacks were so needlessly flashy whenever she attacked Akane- she had been letting herself miss.

But why?

I swallowed hard when I saw Shampoo smirk. She had bent her knees lower, and spread her arms like a bird readying to take flight, before darting forward.

The fighting style she used was completely different from before. With graceful circular, yet incredibly fast movements; she matched every hop, dash, and step, by sliding one foot and pivoting on the ball of the other. Open palms had replaced fists, allowing her to slap my punches away while quickly aiming for a counterattack.

'She's not giving me any room,' I noticed while leaning sideways as the heel of her palm nearly took off my ear. 'I'm too far from the exit, she'd be able to get a critical strike if I turned and ran, and she also knows about the Saotome Special attack. The ceiling is too low for me to gain any real distance by taking to the air. She's flying on the floor while I'm stuck, grounded-' I grinned; if my wings were clipped, then I'd just have to grow new feathers. Getting airborne, I waited for Shampoo's counter, and as expected, she dashed in to grab my left leg. Raising the leg before she was able to get a hold, I used it to push off the ceiling and add more power to an axe kick. Shampoo was directly below, making it almost impossible for her to dodge the kick that raced towards her like a guillotine. Seeing no other choice, she crossed her arms above her head and took the attack's full force. The tiles around her feet cracked, debris launched into the air, the boards beneath her sank inches deeper, but she did not fall. She would have gotten me with a counter for sure had I not kicked off her arms to land a few feet away.

My right ankle was sore as hell from pushing off the ceiling at an odd angle. I was hoping it would be enough to sink her legs through the floor, but it she had avoided being trapped by standing directly above one the thicker beams. There was a mix of regret and satisfaction when I surveyed my handiwork: Shampoo's forearms were heavily bruised. I barely caught her eyes narrowing as she brought her arms down. That last strike had definitely hurt her, but I had to move soon or she could turn the tide in her favor again.

The fighting she was using was probably using the true form of Amazon wushu. She wouldn't have been able to use any other style against me matched unless she had been trained for years in its use first. Memories of the tournament at her village confirmed my suspicions. Only an art that required monstrous leg-strength and uncompromising balance would use a giant suspended log as its arena.

As expected, Shampoo wouldn't be defeated so easily. Reaching into her hair, she pulled out a set of chopsticks, and I found myself dodging to let deadly projectiles zip past and embed themselves into the ceiling. Did she know Ryouga's iron cloth technique too? Dangit, it didn't matter-I was going to win. Amazon wushu had a distinct weakness- it was never intended for an opponent who had equal mobility on land and air. I jumped again, whipping out a standard spinning kick combo from the Saotome School. The trick was that I was using the ceiling as leverage to change the direction and angle of my kicks. The sudden shifts in pattern were nearly impossible to predict. Shampoo scrambled to dodge, unable to block without further damaging her arms. Anyone else would have given up, yet she never faltered. She was more than a stupid ditz she pretended to be. Soon, she was using her hands to redirect my weaker attacks. I pressed on harder, sending a storm of kicks at her, but she had gotten down my timing. She was adapting!

It wouldn't be long until she made herself an opening and I'd be back on the defensive. My options were getting pretty thin.

Shampoo homed in on my hesitation like a missile-the next thing I knew, I was tumbling across the floor, intense pain lancing through my shin.

Shampoo panted where she knelt, her left hand held out like a claw. "Chestnut Fist revised, Swift Demon Claw. Ranma stupid for underestimating opponent in battle," She said, her voice carrying an angry edge.

I stood back up and shook my leg. Fortunately, it hurt worse than it actually was. I could understand why Shampoo was so mad—I had been holding back. She probably could've broken a bone if she wanted to. The Swift Demon Claw was a focused strike far stronger and faster than anything produced by the Chestnut Fist. She showed off a new technique as a warning that the next lapse in judgment would be my last. "Fine," I grinned, "you're not the only one with new tricks." The wind picked up, swirling around the room. Loose bits within the restaurant began tumbling across the floor, blown along by the unnatural wind.

Shampoo raised her arms, soft lavender light flowing out to bathe her body.

"Flying Dragon Ascension, revision two: Saotome Wind Step." With a gentle nudge of my foot, I surged forward, riding on the controlled wind. Shampoo had made the mistake of trying to limit my movement by fighting me in an enclosed space. The entire room was saturated with our hot ki, which set the perfect stage for the technique. Gravity and momentum were no longer factors as I pushed off the floor, walls, and ceiling-waves of sharp white wind swirled where I made contact. The horizontal blast variant of the Flying Dragon Ascension was a building block for getting the right amount of ki control, and the aerial mastery of the Saotome School let me use the wind to maximum effect. Even if Shampoo knew how to use the Flying Dragon Ascension, the most she'd be able to do is slow me down a little.

But in the split-second before I reached her, Shampoo thrust her finger at the floor.

"Breaking Point!" I heard above the roaring wind. Tiles exploded upwards in jagged shards, I stopped immediately and plucked them out of the air before they could hit. While I was distracted, Shampoo had gotten close enough to launch another high powered claw strike. "Haa!" her cry rang. I had managed to dodge the physical strike by an inch, but there was another component to the attack.

"Aaaargh!" I stumbled back and clutched my midsection, the shirt around it was in tatters, and I could feel red welts burning under my hand. My guts should have been spilled all over the restaurant.

Shampoo had gone for the kill. Had I been just a little slower….

I took deep breaths to calm myself, ignoring the burning sensation as I did so. I had wanted to save this move for the dried old monkey, but I guess it wouldn't have worked if Shampoo was already at this level. I looked at my opponent with newfound respect. She had grown to the point where she could learn my timing in the heat of battle. She was showing fatigue in her sagging shoulders and rapid breathing, but not even the Saotome Wind Step could guarantee that she wouldn't block somehow. As much as I hated to admit it, I was pretty beat up myself. I had to end the fight fast.

Concentrating, I held two fingers up together and formed a small, tight ball of light blue ki. "Shampoo," I said, surprised by the pride had in her. "I feel honored to have fought you, but it's time to end this."

I meant every word. This was one of the rare occasions that I fought with everything I had- without anyone's life other than my own on the line. For a single fleeting moment of existence, there were no petty concerns or disagreements- just the purity of battle.

Snapping my fingers forward, I started the first phase of a yet unnamed technique before dashing towards her. Shampoo wove around the first ki blast as expected, but I wasn't done. I launched a second, third, and fourth ball in rapid succession. Shampoo jumped and twirled to avoid the first two, then brought a ki reinforced knife hand down to dispel the third before ducking below a left hook, and countering with palm aimed at my chin. I had read the attack perfectly, and had both hands up to push against her palm, which sent me airborne. While flying away from her, I held out two fingers and willed the ki balls to reverse direction, and Shampoo easily sensed the danger. Thrusting with spear-hands, she struck the orbs, splitting each into harmless streaks of light.

Not wasting the opportunity that my last technique had bought, I tugged at the surrounding hot ki, summoning the winds. She had her back turned, and that would be my chance. I tensed my legs to ready the final attack.

But at the last moment, she shifted her weight and spun impossibly. A third Swift Demon Claw burst from an outstretched arm. The incredible speed and power of the technique was enough to break through any defense I could throw together…

That's what would have happened if I hadn't been crouching upside down on the ceiling-safe from being torn to shreds. My feet were naked. I slipped off my slippers when Shampoo's rising palm made contact. In between my toes were the chopsticks and tile shards that had been stuck to the roof earlier.

Shampoo had figured out my timing so I knew she wouldn't expose her back knowing she could counter. Worn from expending yet another large burst of ki, she was wide open for the next attack. "Eat this," I said, pushing against the ceiling with as much strength as I could muster, "Hard-headed Impact!"

The name of the technique gives a pretty good description of happened next. There was a loud crack and then a thud as we both fell. When the dust cleared, I was sitting up, rubbing my forehead. Shampoo was out cold. "Ow! Why the heck didn't I use my fists?"

There was clapping from the kitchen, and Cologne hopped in on her staff. "Very impressive, Son-in-law."

I glared. "What's the deal Old Ghoul?"

'Thwack,' the sound of her staff meeting my skull.

"Ow! That's still tender you know."

Cologne tsked. "Such an impatient young man. She walked to Shampoo and slung one of the unconscious warrior's arms over her shoulders. "We'll talk after I treat Shampoo, thank you for taking care not to injure her too badly." She half carried her great granddaughter up the stairs near the back of the Cafe.

When Cologne returned, she asked me to prepare a table while she cooked ramen. Ten minutes later, I was served a steaming bowl of noodles. Cologne sat across the table, a chipped, white teacup in hand. I was torn between the need for food and the need for an explanation, but food ultimately won. After mot more than five seconds, the once full bowl was empty. "Alright," I began, "are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Cologne reached into her robes and tossed a book over. It had a light green cardboard cover bound in bright red thread. I flipped through the crisp pages, passing printed Chinese on my way to the handwritten Japanese section.

"Read it." she ordered.

I frowned, why couldn't she just say it? Whining at her would probably wouldn't get an explanation out of her so I decided to play along.

"For three thousand years of Amazon history, this thing sure is thin." I idly skimmed the book which wasn't more than a centimeter thick. "Heck, half of this is in Japanese, and the introduction to Amazon law only talks about how great Amazon women are."

Losing patience, I jumped to the page with the marriage law. "In the event that a warrior woman is defeated by an outsider, if her opponent is a woman, then she must give her the kiss of death and kill her. However, if her opponent is a man, she must make him her husband..." I turned to the next page, "Furthermore, in the event that she is defeated by a wild beast, she must capture it and take it as a family pet; this does not include members of the illusionary Musk tribe, which must be neutered on sight-"

I winched. Poor musk, whoever they were.

"After the kiss of marriage is given, the warrior woman will serve her groom a wedding feast consisting of a live animal, customarily the family pet. The groom will show his dedication to his wife by rending it with his teeth and painting her face with the blood..."

The description of rituals got progressively more brutal and violent. I shut the book tightly once I got to the part about the use of magical girl organs for home remedies being acceptable under certain circumstances.

Death and torture in the book aside, Shampoo wasn't an animal. She proved that she was a warrior, not a savage. If Shampoo wanted to get rid of Akane and the other fiancees, she could've ages ago.

"Shampoo pretending to suck, you helping me out when I'm in trouble..." I said, "the laws are fake!"

Shampoo hobbled down the stairs.

"Well, Granddaughter, are you satisfied?"

Shampoo gently nodded. "Yes, Great-grandmother."

I eyed the purple-haired Amazon for a moment. "...Shampoo's not trying to marry me, is she?"

Cologne laughed. "Don't be silly- "

I sighed. "Good."

"- of course she is."

I stumbled in my seat. "But the laws, they're not real. Please tell me they're not real."

Shampoo sat by Cologne.

"Your suspicions are correct, the laws are fake."

"Aha!"

'Thwack,' again with the staff.

"Ow!"

"Don't interrupt." She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, the laws were fake. They were originally meant to scare away nosy outsiders."

"Then, why are you here?"

Cologne shook her head. "Clever boy, but not too smart."

"Hey!"

"We didn't survive three thousand years by locking ourselves away," she said, ignoring me. "The outside world has its dangers, but we adapt, taking in the best and rejecting the worst."

My eyes widened. "Anything Goes…."

"Correct. All those trials to push you to your limit were devised to make sure you revealed everything. In return, I trained you, and taught you some of our advanced techniques."

"I didn't ask for no-"

"Enough!" Cologne's glare was like dark ice. "You misunderstand, we did this for the good of the village."

"You could've asked," I muttered, crossing my arms.

"Oh, and I suppose you and your father would've happily handed over your art's secrets."

"..." I shifted in my seat. "Fine, no harm done, and those Amazon techniques did come in handy."

"No doubt." The twinkle in the Old Ghoul's eyes told me that future amazons were going to be using the Saotome Wind Step.

"Something still doesn't add up, why did you have Shampoo challenge me?"

"Oh, a few reasons... For now, you may consider it a test"

"A test?"

"I do not leave a task half-finished. I started training you, and this was a test to make sure you passed a minimum proficiency before Shampoo and I depart."

"You're..." the smile on my face was so large I was worried I'd pull something, "leaving."

Cologne blinked. "Ah...yes"

"Wohoo!" I cheered.

'Thwack.' ...that staff was really getting annoying.

I rubbed my head. "Not that I'm complaining, but why leave so suddenly?"

Cologne gave me a look similar to the one school teachers use to compliment failing test papers. "You must've noticed that the people of this ward have not exactly been happy with martial artists as of late."

"You could've stopped them," I said.

"Oh to be so young and naive." Cologne drew a withered breath.

"If it were just a simple matter of fighting off outsiders, this would have been settled ages ago. Suppose Shampoo and I fought off the mob, where do you think that would have lead?"

"..." I wasn't sure what would happen, but I had a feeling that whatever it  
was would be worse. Was this why Kasumi stopped me?

"I see you're finally beginning to understand." Cologne sipped her tea.

"Not really," I admitted, looking into my bowl. Why were things always so complicated?

The elderly Amazon nodded. "The Tendo patriarch's death affects you deeply. Remember, Son-in-law, there are many problems that fists alone cannot solve. Trust cannot be forced."

"Yeah, you can't make people trust you instantly. I don't get what that has to do with me or Mr. Tendo though."

"Understanding will come sooner or later. I suspect Soun himself took time to become the man of society that he was." Cologne sipped her tea.

I scratched my head. "Society? Mr. Tendo?" The two were about as far apart in my mind as edible food and Akane's cooking. It was all so confusing.

She grinned, paying no attention to my comment. "And someday, you'll also understand which woman is most suitable as your partner." She placed a hand on Shampoo's shoulder. "Isn't that right, Great Granddaughter?"

Despite her injuries, Shampoo nodded enthusiastically. I grimaced.

"This ain't some game," I said, brows knitting. "I have a lot left to do here."

Cologne regarded me for a moment, and sighed. "We know how important families are. We will not get in your way. Now that we've finished our mission, Shampoo and I are also quite eager to return to our sisters. Make no mistake however, we're not done with you yet, Son-in-law." She hopped off on her staff. "Come Shampoo, we have much packing to do."

Shampoo smiled demurely and snuck me a peck to the cheek. "Shampoo miss you, Ranma," she whispered in my ear before following Cologne up the stairs.

123123

I stumbled home. Two weeks later, the Neko-Hanten closed. Cologne and Shampoo stopped by one last time to say goodbye. Nabiki and Akane were on me like sharks to tell them what happened, bugging me until I caved.

On the upside, Akane and I were suddenly on friendly terms. I wasn't sure what was going through her head until she talked to me one lunch period on the school roof.

"Can I ask, what made you decide?" She said, staring out into the courtyard.

"Beats me...all I know is we can't go on living like we used to. Mr. Tendo is gone, we have to face that sometime."

"I think you're right. I've been trying to put everything into perspective since Dad passed away. We forgot that our engagement was for the sake of the art. Looking back, there's not much to be proud of." She paused, complicated expressions playing across her features. "I want to build a school in his memory, will you help me?"

"Huh, why?"

"Along with Kasumi, Nabiki, and me, the art's been Dad's life. With the Tendo School gone, it'd be like half of him were gone, and, I want to be a martial artist. I'm tired of being a joke."

How she spoke was somehow different. She had changed from the uncute tomboy I had met that rainy afternoon. I guess I wasn't the only one having it rough.

"Ah don't get so down on yourself." I held out a hand. "Let's give it a shot."

123123

From then on, we worked together to find what was left of the Tendo School. Soun hadn't taught Akane much outside kenpo. Surprisingly, pop was a big help, he still remembered a lot of the Tendo school's basic forms, but the higher level techniques would be lost forever.

"Aaaah!" Akane's back slammed against the wall.

"Akane," I instinctively rushed to help her.

"Don't." She said firmly, holding out a hand. "We wanted to test the school, and that's what we're doing." She winced and held her shoulder.

"Something's missing. These forms, they're very defensive. They emphasize using the ground as leverage, and they have a lot of counters for reversing your opponent's momentum, but with almost no offensive follow-ups."

I resisted the urge to fuss over her. Akane was doing great. After that day on the courtyard at school, she had kept her cool in the dojo, which meant I didn't have an excuse to insult her as a martial artist anymore.

She was onto something, but what? I strained to find the answer. The Tendo dojo wasn't an ordinary dojo. As I studied the wooden floor panels and walls, I began imagining what the dojo looked from the outside. Having patched up the place myself, I knew every tile, every floorboard. Nothing there was new to me. I traced the different paths to the dojo, like the one to the house and even the one from out back...

"That's it!" I raced to the entrance and read the wooden sign leaning next to the gate, 'To defeat the owner in savage combat, use rear door.'

"Ranma, waitup," Akane said.

I pointed at the sign. "That's the key to the Tendo School right there!"

Akane looked at it and bit at her lip. "What's so important about this sign?" she asked, not being able to guess what I was thinking.

"The front door is almost always unlocked, right?"

"Yeah, Dad wanted people to walk in freely, to make them feel welcome," she answered.

"And even though we've gotten challenges, not once has anyone used the rear door. Heck, that door's rusted shut."

Akane looked at me funny. "So..."

I folded my arms. "A martial artist must always keep his greatest secrets hidden from his enemies, but they must also leave records behind to teach students who seek wisdom."

"He never intended anyone to use that door," I continued, "'savage combat' is secondary." What Cologne had done was making more and more sense- the art wasn't made up of force alone. I had forgotten that people were involved.

Akane clapped her hands together. "That's why there were so many ways of blocking and countering in the forms, the basis of the Tendo School isn't to fight, but to 'welcome' or accept your opponents and defeat them with as little injury as possible."

"Yup, and the offensive moves in kenpo fold right in after you create an opening with the counter. Bear people no ill will, fight in righteous combat, and address their grievances. Your dad was a leader Akane, a true martial artist."

Under this new revelation, Akane and I worked even harder to rebuild Soun's legacy, and an important part of that legacy was getting Kasumi married to Tofu. Akane managed to rope Nabiki into helping as well, and between the three of us, we slowly learned how to take care of ourselves. It took some doing, but Kasumi finally relented.

After Kasumi got married, we all decided that it was best that the Tendo Dojo was sold to start fresh somewhere else. Soun wouldn't have wanted to cause the neighbors any trouble and neither did we. The hundreds of debtors and tax vultures swooping in from every direction at once was beyond even Nabiki's expectations though.

Once the feeding frenzy was over, we barely had enough for a fresh start. Akane and I decided to accept the Suzumiyas' kind guardianship.

A year later, Nabiki and I pledged to help save for a new dojo. We both took regular jobs while Akane trained. I studied hard and graduated from university, and Nabiki found me a job near where she worked in Osaka.

"A long train ride to and from work everyday isn't practical. You may as well stay at my place," she said. I had a bad feeling, but agreed since we would both save a lot of money.

123123

For a year and a half, we lived together. Osaka seemed worlds away from Nerima, we felt like outsiders, and Mom, Akane, and Kasumi could only visit once in a while. Eat, sleep, and work, no one could live that way forever...

"Hey Ranma." Nabiki was leaning against the wall. She had on a pair of tight black spandex shorts and a baggy cotton shirt that did little to cover her chest. "Want to try being engaged again?"

'Thud'

I fell flat on my back, missing the kick combo. In a split second, I flipped over on all fours, scrambled over, and asked her to clarify in a calm and controlled manner.

"Are you freakin' insane?"

"Relax, Ranma-honey, nothing serious… I probably could have phrased it better. All I'm suggesting is maybe we can see how compatible we are."

"...about as compatible as oil and water," I muttered.

"Heh, I heard that. Look, I know that it didn't work out last time."

"You can say that again- ow." Nabiki cut me off with a smack to the head.

"As I was saying, we hadn't gotten along last time, but that was because I was trying to get you and Akane together."

"Really?" I scratched my head.

Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Why am I even trying?" She looked me straight in the eyes. "In all the time we've lived together, haven't we been getting along? We both have our networks- I have my associates, while you play Mr. Hero to the neighborhood."

"Hey!"

"Something's missing though," she turned to face the afternoon sun. "We could be free doing whatever the hell we want. We could go our separate ways, but duty keeps us where we are. I'm not complaining- it was as much my own choice. I'm just saying that duty shouldn't get in the way of making the best of a situation."

I frowned. There she goes again, making sense. If she were Akane, I could just insult her, get pummeled, and that'd be the end of it.

But Nabiki was a hawk. "May I remind you that promise is null and void now since there's no true master of the Tendo style anymore."

She was right. Soun never taught Akane beyond the basic techniques of his school. Akane learned the Saotome style from me, and we tried to rebuild what we could by keeping the philosophy of the school intact, but even Akane would admit that it wasn't the original.

Where would I be if Soun hadn't passed away? I couldn't say I'd be anywhere important...

"Alright, you win. What do I have to do?"

Nabiki smiled. "Nothing."

I didn't get it then, but Nabiki had already done what needed to be done by talking to me- she made the idea of us getting closer a possibility. We ate, slept, and worked as usual, yet mysteriously, we got closer. It was only a little bit each day, barely even noticeable.

...until, one day, we got a little too close.

123123

I stormed through the door, shirt wrinkled and collar at odd angles from racing through the rooftops to arrive. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

Nabiki was sitting on the couch, holding an ice pack to her head. "Would you keep it down Saotome, it's not your choice."

Fiery red aura flared in all directions- I was a hair's width away from blowing up the apartment. "Not my choice? I'm the father, damnit! Do you have any idea how it felt when Shiori walked up to congratulate me for a child that I didn't know existed?"

"I knew I shouldn't have told that nosy bitch..." Nabiki casually lifted the ice pack off her head, and spared me a withering glance. "Yes, it's not your choice. There's plenty of time before I reach the third trimester. A kid would complicate things. You should be happy. You knocked me up and you're probably getting off."

"No..." Is that what she thought of me? Maybe I didn't...love her yet, but the possibility was there- she said so herself.

"Are you thinking straight, Saotome?" I looked up Nabiki was staring at me like I had grown horns and tentacles. "We're not ready for a kid, it's destined to fail."

"I don't care, it can't end like this," I said.

She watched me with dull, faithless eyes. That was how Nabiki was, she was watching, always watching, and somehow, just watching told her everything she ever needed to know.

"Then, marry me."

"Grk!" I choked.

"Thought so." She sniffed derisively. "Martial artists are all the same, never being able to make decisions that don't involve their fists."

That had been enough to push me over the edge.

"Hold on," I ordered, and ran to my room. My heart was pounding a thousand times a second, making it impossible to hear anything else. Was I really ready? It didn't matter- I'd learn, I was the best. Before I knew it, I was kneeling in front of Nabiki, an open small blue velvet box in hand.

Nabiki's jaw dropped. "Why do you..."

I smiled wryly. "Doesn't matter."

The ring was supposed to be for Akane. There was no engraving on the inside. Ironically, I couldn't do something so permanent. "Nabiki," I paused, "will you marry me?"

"This is destined for failure," Nabiki said.

"No it isn't. I don't lose- not when it counts."

"Words are cheap," she said.

"That's why I'm proposing, dummy."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hooh."

"Nabiki!" I headed her off. "We may not be in love. But we've gotten along, and..." I hesitated. "Even without this kid, I can still see myself spending my life with you." Was I telling the truth or was I only telling her what she wanted to hear? I didn't know.

She reached for the ring, shaking, as if resisting an invisible pull. Touching the diamond's surface, Nabiki closed her eyes. "You win, Saotome."

I took the Suzumiya name as a sign of respect to the couple who took care of us for so long. Pop was so far gone, he didn't put up much of a fight when he heard. Nabiki got a transfer from Osaka to Okinawa, and we rented a place there. Akane refused the rest of our contributions, maybe out of kindness, so we used our savings to buy a new place. Less than nine months later, Haruhi was born.

123123

The canned voice announcing the arrival was enough to bring me back to the present. I mechanically followed the other passengers onto the platform and out into the streets. It was only when I was well on my way home that I noticed the stars were already out.

In the end, Nabiki's prediction had come true, but what if Haruhi hadn't been born?

I dismissed that thought. There was no point in considering what could have happened. Haruhi meant more to me than all the martial arts techniques in the world. I would relive any hell for her.

The large digital screen on the tall building read 7:45. I picked up the pace.

"I wonder if I'm not too late for dinner."

I took fifteen minutes to get to the door of my apartment, the lights inside spilling through the door's bottom. I wanted to give Haruhi some warning that I had arrived so I used the doorbell instead of my keys.

"Coming," came a singsong from within.

The door opened. "Mikuru? Shouldn't you be at home?"

"Ah," she blushed, "Haruhi invited me to stay for dinner. I hope you don't mind." She looked up at me, her eyes filled with hope.

I smiled. At first, I only played along with Mikuru to keep Haruhi from digging any deeper. Mikuru also probably had other reasons why she agreed to Haruhi's unreasonable demands, but that didn't matter anymore.

"I'd be honored to have you over," I said.

Mikuru's face flushed. "Uuuuuu..."

I laughed and patted her head as I walked past. Haruhi was busy plating curry at the table, the tip of her nose stained yellow with turmeric. "Old man, what are you doing standing around? Be thankful today, because I cooked my secret curry. Your taste buds will explode from how good it is!"

We waited for Mikuru to take her place, then dug in.

"Ith hooooot!"

"You're such a wimp Mikuru. This isn't hot at all. Show her old man!"

"Heh."

The path of a true martial artist was what Soun had taught me. I wouldn't teach her Anything Goes, but that didn't mean I couldn't teach her my way of life.

And as I sat there watching Haruhi force-feeding the poor girl, I realized that I may have to teach her sooner rather than later….

"Haruhi. Stop! She'll die!"

Author's Notes: Thanks to Fallacies for helping me knock the kinks out and to Pat and Kadunta for corrections.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Ranma and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi are not mine.

Friendly reminder: Knowing Ranma One-half is the only requirement for understand this fic. I'll be giving all the necessary information about The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi as needed.

Update: 27 September 2008 new parts added to this chapter. The content is still the same, but I've added a framing concept to give the chapter more in context within the story.

Demiglace Graffiti: Chapter 4

By ToastedPine

I thought that I had gotten used to silence. I was wrong. Sitting in the brightly lit, empty apartment, all alone, I was getting fidgety. It was a Friday night, and I had nothing planned. I would almost laugh at how sad my life was if it didn't make me feel like crying.

Haruhi had left earlier, a flailing Mikuru in tow. My daughter had cited the need for proper sleepover supplies, which she would requisition at the convenience store. Judging from how enthusiastic Haruhi was, they'd get sidetracked and wouldn't be back any time soon.

There I was, in our larger than normal two-room apartment, by myself, tapping my foot on the floor….

"Maybe I should go to the bathhouse."

Bath houses had grown into a guilty pleasure of mine, a relic stemming from my past at the Tendo dojo. Soaking in a large warm bath after practicing the art was very relaxing. The small tub in the apartment wasn't enough for a thorough soak so I took a trip to the bath house once in a while. After marrying Nabiki, bath houses also became a refuge of sorts.

I headed out after tossing a few items into a wooden bath pail and leaving a note. Kurakuen bathhouse, named after the district, was a midsized bathhouse with a clean reputation. I grinned a bit as I thought about the name. One way to read the name was "bitter paradise" which, for me at least, was pretty fitting: A place to wash away the woes of the day.

A quick rinse later, I was chest deep in the warm currents which flowed down from a tacky lion-head waterfall. I had the place nearly all to myself aside from a couple of middle aged men who looked like they were only there to wash up and leave.

Resting my head against the wall, I began to drift. The steam rose and disappeared towards the lights above, taking me back to the days in Okinawa….

123123

We had just moved into our new place after Nabiki transferred company branches. Our wedding had been held a month after I found out Nabiki was pregnant. It was a very private ceremony. Mom and Kasumi were the only witnesses.

Known for its clean air and good people, Okinawa was a great place to raise a family. Unfortunately, Nabiki was, well...Nabiki. The clean air irritated her city lungs, and she hated the easy-going people. Being pregnant with Haruhi only made her more delightful, which she made a point of demonstrating as often as possible.

So there I was, running around the market, searching to fill Nabiki's unreasonable demands for food. Whenever I thought she was satisfied, she'd change her mind. Only three days after her maternity leave had started, and virtually every stall owner in the district knew me by name.

"Mister Suzumiya, back again are we?" came a shrill, yet gentle tone. "What is it this time? Cassava? Pineapple? Or maybe she wants fresh eel two months after the season for them is over?"

I scratched the back of my head. "Eheh...Aunt Chiiyo. Just a beefbowl from the shop down the street." The old lady insisted that I call her that. We had hit it off the moment she learned of my domestic situation. She was nice, but…

"Must be tough, even for a young man so full of energy. Hows about it?—my granddaughter won't give you no trouble when you get her pregnant."

"Gurk."

She reminded me of the Old Ghoul in more ways than I can count. There was one important difference, behind the layers of soft wrinkled skin was a smile that Cologne couldn't match. Aunt Chiiyo enjoyed life, which was great- even if enjoying life included tormenting me.

It must be some sorta' grandmother thing.

"Naoko would have a fit if she heard you using her to tease me like this," I returned, pretending to consider telling her granddaughter. "Anyways, with luck, I don't see have to see you again today."

"You should be thankful." Aunt Chiiyo chuckled. "A beauty like me comes only once every 300 years!"

I grinned. "I bet."

That was when I saw her, a woman in a white shirt and khaki shorts. Her dark brown hair was tied in a ponytail reaching a little past her shoulders- normally, no one special.

Except that she walked like a man.

"…Ucchan?" I hesitated. What if it wasn't her? But the prospect of never seeing her again after today filled me with dread.

"Ucchan!"

She turned around. At first glance, she was almost a whole different person. Her battle spatula and bandolier were gone-so were her blue stall uniform and chest bindings. Some things could not change so easily: the way she walked, the stubborn pride present in how she held herself, and the connection I felt to her remained the same.

"Ranchan," she said breathlessly. She stepped back as I advanced.

"Ucchan, what's up?" I forced a smile and took a slow step forward to test the waters. Maybe she had been startled. She took another step back in response.

"You disappeared without a word," I said. She was probably getting over her surprise.

I hope.

"...stop it," she whispered.

"You look a lot stronger, are you on another training trip? Hey, maybe we can train together again sometime."

"Stop it," she said again, louder and firmer.

"You left without saying goodbye-"

"Stop it!" she finally shouted, which startled the people around us.

Ukyo grimaced at the attention before dragging me into a nearby space between the buildings.

Away from prying eyes, she faced me. "I don't know who you think you are, Jackass."

"Ucchan, what's gotten into you?" I asked. In hindsight, pretending everything was fine wasn't the best idea. Heck, it wasn't an idea at all, the words just… flew out.

I swallowed, hard. "I...we're best buds aren't we?"

Ugh, it was like being in Nerima all over again.

Her initial surprise settled into a cold understanding. "The Ucchan you knew is gone. I'm just another member of the Kuonji clan now."

A member of the Kuonji clan? Of

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded. I don't want to lose you again! "Look, if you're in any sort of trouble, I'm here to help-"

"Help how?" she countered. "God, you're still full of yourself, Ranma. The world doesn't revolve around you."

"Idiot, I care! I want to...aaarrrghhhhhh!" I slammed a fist into the wall. "Why did you disappear, Ucchan?" I stressed her nickname. "I have the right to know."

"Hmh." Her lips twisted in amusement at some sick joke only she could understand. "Where would this right come from, Suzumiya?" She said coldly.

"Are you stupid? Of course I have the right, you're my-" The word caught in my throat.

Ukyo stood there, watching. Her twisted smile widened, as if daring me to say it. I felt so powerless. What was she to me? My fiancée? I never felt that way about her. Even if I did, it was too late. I had a responsibility to Nabiki and my unborn child that I couldn't turn my back on.

I fell to my knees, unable to raise my head. "You were my best friend, Ucchan, you still are."

"No, all I see here are two strangers," she said, her voice growing more distant. "...in case it was bothering you, there's nothing you could have done. Settling down and having a family was never a possibility- not for someone in my position."

Suddenly, her presence vanished. "What? Ucchan!"

I unleashed my tightly bound ki. Faster and faster, my senses spread to grasp the tiniest wisp of her presence, but it was too late. She was gone.

The following hunt for Ukyo proved fruitless; there were a few Kuonji in Japan, but no record of her in any of their registries. I wanted to find her. From what I could tell, she was deeply involved in something dangerous- you didn't learn a vanishing trick like the one she pulled off unless you had a good reason to.

In the end, though, she was right. There was nothing I could do. Ukyo was the last major link to who I was as Ranma Soatome. A hole that couldn't be filled had opened up inside.

123123

"Achoo!" I awoke with a sneeze, and shivered. Where was I? The bath house. I must have dosed off. Why was the water so cold? I wondered before looking down to find…my breasts. Ack! My first reflex was to submerge myself, and scan the surroundings. No one seemed to be around. Good. The other patrons must have cleared out when they noticed the water's temperature dropping—I shivered again. This was no time to piece together what had happened. I had to get out of the water before I caught a cold.

In the changing area, I hastily grabbed a spare towel and dried myself off as best I could.

"Oh, were you still in the bath, Mr. Customer?" a frail voice came from my right. I turned towards the voice like a deer caught in headlights, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was the old bath attendant.

"The boiler seems to have failed," she continued, "I've called a repairman, but he won't be by until tomorrow I'm afraid. Please forgive the inconvenience."

"Oh, it's *cough* no big deal," I answered, lowering my voice and trying to obscure her squinting eyes by hiding behind a towel.

"That's good to hear, Mr. Customer." She smiled a wrinkle filled smile. "If there's nothing else, I will be closing in a few minutes. Have a pleasant evening." She bowed before hobbling away.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The old lady minding the counter was another reason why I liked this particular bath house. She was quiet and could barely see passed the counter where she sat. While my curse hardly acted up anymore, it was always good to have an exit strategy.

Thanks to the Saotome Anything Goes Quick Change technique, I was dressed and out of the bath house in a flash. I sniffled. Unfortunately, dressing quickly did little to warm me up.

*Woof, woof* A dog came running. It was a knee-high ball of white fluff known as a Samoyed. I felt a spark of recognition. Stared at the dog in earnest, I asked, "Yusaku?"

*Woof* it barked in affirmative.

"Ranko, fancy meeting you here!" someone called.

I raised my head…Ukyo? I blinked. No, not Ukyo.

"Hey Kyoko!" I greeted, "How have you been?"

"That's my line." Kyoko pouted. "You haven't visited the preschool in a long time. You're always disappearing without a word."

"Ehehe." I tugged at my pigtail nervously. "Things came up," I said before sneezing.

Kyoko leaned closer, concern on her pretty face. "Goodness, Ranko. Do you have a cold?" I stood like a board as she touched her forehead to mine.

Was it getting warmer?

"Why, you're freezing! We have to get you to a bed right away!" she said while holding a hand to her cheek and walking this was and that.

"It's no big deal," I insisted, trying to calm her down. "The boiler in the bathhouse failed while I was asleep in the tub." I pointed at my bathing supplies. "See?"

"Oh, is that all?" She sighed. "Be that as it may, we need to warm you up. My place isn't far from here. You can use my tub…why do you have a man's razor?" She said, scrutinizing the inside of my wooden bucket.

I goggled. Think fast. "They're for my legs. Closer shave right? Ehehehe." I scratched my head. "I'm fine. It'll take more than a little cold water to hurt me."

Kyoko frowned. "You really are such a tomboy sometimes. It's such a shame too since you're so very pretty."

"Oh so pretty…" I deadpanned. "Hey, wait, why are you pushing me?" I asked the older woman who had her hands on my shoulders.

"I'll accept that you won't take another bath, but I'm not letting you off that easily. We should get some warm tea in you, and it will give us a chance to catch up." A kind and sincere smile greeted me when I turned to face her. There would be no escaping. I had lost.

"Take me where you will," I said, head down.

"That's the spirit! Right, Yusaku?"

*Woof* agreed the dog.

"No fair double teaming!"

Kyoko eventually let go of my shoulders and fell in step beside me. By my estimates, she was in her late forties, though I could be wrong. She'd been widowed twice, and lived through a lot more than I had. Regardless, age and emotional hardship did little to diminish her beauty. She was taller than the average Japanese woman by a few inches, which made her more than a head taller than my girl side. Her long, flowing black hair complemented her smooth face and delicate jaw line. Her dark blue eyes were so dark that they were almost black.

She was only wearing a baggy sweater over a faded pink dress, yet she still managed to exude a natural elegance. One that far surpassed anything granted by the pretense of superior breeding and monetary wealth.

It was a strange coincidence that I'd meet the one person in the city who bore a striking resemblance to my long lost best friend.

Speaking of chance encounters, one in particular that lead to some bitter-sweet moments.

123123

Six months after Nabiki gave birth to Haruhi, the two of us went out on what we considered a date, which was basically a walk to the big park half an hour away.

Nabiki stretched her arms high over her head, arching her back. She was wearing a snug orange sweater and rear-hugging jeans. I took a second to admire her outline under the sun as the shadow of leaves played across it.

"Mmmmmmh, I've been cooped up in that tiny apartment for eons." She said, reveling in the feel of her muscles loosening. Haruhi was pretty easy to take care of, but she needed a lot of attention and would get loud if she didn't get any. Someone always had to be in the room with her, which led to long hours of sitting.

An easy smile played across my face. It was nice to see Nabiki enjoy the simple pleasures. Sure, she had lots of fun at other peoples' expense—especially back at Furinkan- but it was a different story after Soun died. We even had a family savings account, which we put our money into. Being Nabiki, she did save a tiny bit for herself, but she only used it for necessities.

None of the clothes she wore were pricey. The jeans she had on were a discount pair that she had me fix to fit her when she discovered how good I was with a needle and thread. Aside from her tailored suits and the party clothes she had for business functions, she owned nothing extravagant.

She smiled. "A good thing your mom decided to visit."

"Yeah," I said, resting my hands on the back of my head. That day, the sky was so clear you could almost reach up and touch the clouds. "Too bad she can't live near us, 'cuzza pop."

Nabiki's expression hardened almost imperceptibly, and I mentally smack myself to dislodge the foot in my mouth.

It was the week after I proposed to Nabiki that we went back to Nerima. I didn't want to go at first- we hadn't even known when the wedding was going to be held. As much as Soun seemed like a coward, I learned that he had settled accounts with everyone before he died. I could do no less.

We were sitting mom's yard, which was like a smaller version of the Tendo's garden. It had a koi pond lined by round rocks, an old wooden punching post driven into the ground, and a pile of mismatched stone and wood at the corner for patching up the house.

Kasumi and mom went to busy themselves in the kitchen, leaving Nabiki and I alone. We nursed the red marks on our cheeks in silence. Akane had not taken the news well.

It didn't take long for pop to come down the stairs. He had been waiting.

The first thing I noticed was his frail body- fat and muscle, once densely packed, had withered to skin. He'd gotten so thin that I could make out the lines of his ribs through the open flaps of his yellowing gi. Untouched by a razor, the hairs on his face had grown into an uneven thicket that covered cracked, brown skin.

"Pop…." No wonder mom and Kasumi avoided any questions about him earlier.

He walked towards us in deliberate yet stumbling steps. I strode forward, unconsciously moving to support him, but he passed me like I wasn't there, choosing instead to head for Nabiki who was still seated by the yard. He stopped a few feet from her, staring impassively. He had made no secret of blaming Nabiki for taking me away from him, and this was his last act of protest.

Nabiki sat there unflinching, meeting the heat of his blame with an ice-cold wall.

An eternity passed before he turned slowly to leave. "Son, the Saotome School of Anything Goes ends with you."

Mom and Kasumi came back from the kitchen just as Pop had finished retreating back up the stairs. I guess they had been waiting too.

Despite how it sounded, what Pop said wasn't a command, it was an admission. He assumed correctly that I could never pass on Anything Goes. I didn't have it in me to be that tough on anyone, much less on Haruhi. Now that I'm a father, I kinda got how Pop screwed up so badly. He cared about me, but he also wanted to continue the art. He thought he could fulfill his duties to both by sealing away his heart for the sake of my training.

Anything Goes was an art created by Happosai, a man who became a grandmaster by constantly wandering without true peers or allies. Whether it was Anything Goes or perversion that came first was irrelevant- solitude became his constant mistress, and the same would befall anyone who followed his path.

I was brought out of my thoughts by a forceful soprano voice. "Mr. Suzuuuumiiiyyaaaaaa," it bellowed, like the tolling of a gigantic bell.

Nabiki's eyes narrowed in familiarity. Out of all the neighbors, it just had to be her didn't it? I prayed that it wasn't who I thought it was, but I wasn't that lucky. A pudgy middle-aged woman in a tiger print dress two sizes too small reached us after squeezing her way through the maze of people.

"Oh Mr. Suzumiya, I want to commend you on your excellent martial arts demonstration last Saturday. We've never had so many donations! I hope we can count on you in the future—what am I saying? I know that you'll be there to help whenever you're needed." She said, clasping her hands together.

Mrs. Michiko Otani wasn't a bad person. She was married to one of those high-powered executive types who was always abroad. As a result, she took to community service to relieve her boredom. She was so good at community work that she was dubbed the 'genie' for how she seemed to be able to make any wish a reality.

Unfortunately, she and Nabiki got along like a pair of starving cats in a sack.

"Uuuhh…yeah." I fidgeted.

Nabiki cleared her throat, gaining Michiko's attention.

"Oh, it's you," the pudgy lady said while looking down on Nabiki though freakishly long lashes. How she managed that against someone two heads taller is anyone's guess. Then, like flipping on a light switch, her tone became bright and cheery. "My, Mrs. Suzumiya you're looking awfully good considering you just had a child. You hadn't gained much weight at all- I can hardly notice ten pounds."

"Thank you," Nabiki said, her eyes sharpening. "Actually, it's four, but I lose weight easily, much like you do."

"How fortunate for you." Michiko gave a thin smile. "We mustn't let our guard down, what with such a fine, young, husband." Her emphasis on 'young' had not gone unnoticed. Nabiki's right eye had developed a tick.

"I'll keep that in mind," Nabiki struggled to maintain civility. I'm not sure why the woman had this kind of effect on her. Against anyone else, she was like granite, but against Michiko, all bets were off.

The building kill ki sending unpleasant tingles up and down my spine told me that things were gonna get ugly if we didn't get away soon so I grabbed Nabiki's wrist.

Addressing Michiko, I bowed. "I'm sorry Mrs. Otani, but we've been out too long. We must be going." Turning to Nabiki I prodded, "Right, Dear?"

Before either could react, I pulled Nabiki away like my life depended on it.

123123

"Ranma, you can let go now." Nabiki huffed, winded from my panicked escape. "She's not going to chase us all the way here- not with those short fat legs of hers," she said flatly in a tone that suggested we needed to talk.

Only then did I notice that we were at an empty playground.

"So…you knew what they were saying behind my back," she said, sitting on a nearby swing.

I sat on the swing next to her. There was no use denying it. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I shook my head. "I didn't think you cared. You're only a year older, and it's stupid."

She laughed bitterly. "God, Ranma, you're so dense."

"Hey!"

"You're 25 aren't you?" she asked, knowing exactly how old I was.

"And?" I returned.

"You don't look a day over twenty," she answered. "See us from an outsider's point of view. What would that make me? What would that make us?"

"But it's not true, I set them straight!"

I wasn't deaf, which was the reason I had wanted to escape Michiko in the first place. People could get really vicious when they hated each other. Rumors of Nabiki the 'cradle robber' spread like wildfire.

"People see what they want, regardless of reality."

They thought I was lying? My jaw tightened.

She rolled he eyes. "What are you going to do? Go around with our birth certificates? Life's not that simple," she said, and then pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers, "why the hell do you have to be such a freak?"

A part of me knew she didn't mean it, she was just frustrated, but that did little to soften the blow.

"This isn't the life I wanted," she continued. "This isn't the way it was supposed to be."

"So what now?" I retaliated. One moment, I wasn't being realistic, and the next, she was talking about ideals? It was enough to push anyone to the edge.

"I don't know! Mother… she did it somehow," she insisted. "She had three daughters, a husband who loved her unconditionally, and she was perfectly content."

"Nabiki…I-"

"Don't say it," she ordered. "I don't need your pity. I want to be content. I do, Ranma. I say it to myself every day, hoping that I'd buy it. Still, I'm trying to sell myself a lie- and I'm too sharp for that. It's selfish, I know. I want it all," she averted her gaze, "…including the career."

I couldn't hold myself back. "It's not pity! You think I have it easy? I gave up something too!"

"Oh please, your pathetic art?" She asked. "What good does it do? For all your vaunted skill, not even Ukyou's willing to put up with you anymore."

"…you knew?" I shifted away from her, the terrible implications beginning to sink in.

"No, I'm not keeping an eye on you," she said, as though reading my mind. "You can't lie to save your life. I knew what happened the moment you came home looking like something the cat dragged in."

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Was I supposed to have told her about Ukyo, or should I have done a better job keeping it a secret? She watched me for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do next. I found myself unable to reach out to her, to tell her that I had done nothing wrong.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was out of line, but the problem of our reputation stands. I think you should make an effort to look older. It's not just for me. You want Haruhi to grow up normal too, right?"

Conflict raged. The old me rebelled against the idea, yet whatever reasons my past self may have had fell on deaf ears. Ultimately, Haruhi's welfare was top priority. I didn't blame Nabiki for what she said. Judging from what happened earlier, she had been feeling the pressure for quite a while. I was partly at fault for being stupid enough to think that it would all work itself out.

Our marriage got better for a while after that. Growing a beard made me look more my age. Nabiki also changed my clothes to reflect a more professional image, which let me communicate comfortably with my peers. My boss was so impressed with the resulting increase in performance and cooperation that he even gave me a promotion.

Nabiki was in high spirits by the time we attended a Christmas party thrown together by the bigwigs at her company. The moment we entered, the room went from lively conversation to hushed inquiry. I was dressed in a finely cut tuxedo, and Nabiki, a sleek black evening gown with a plunging back that was a little too low for my liking- and too much to the liking of dirty old men. Nabiki's ignored them and give me a reassuring squeeze.

Maybe I just imagined being able to see past the frozen wall she always kept around her, but the way she looked at me seemed to speak of her pride in being in my arms and no one else's.

Living with Nabiki had always been a lot like living as an illusion. At times, I was a mere reflection of her- beams of light showing a person who was never truly there- while at others….

123123

I was sitting alone on the roof of our apartment complex, idly watching the sunset. I heard Nabiki opening the roof door, before she draped her arms around me from behind. "Happy valentine's day," she said, her breath tickling my right ear. She handed me a small box.

Inside was a lopsided chocolate cake marked by a toddler's handprint.

"You made this?" I asked.

Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Haruhi helped too. That witch Michiko does have one thing right in all her worthless pestering. I should work to keep you- if only just a little bit. Don't get used to this kind of treatment."

I grinned. "Oh my, Nabiki are you getting soft on me?"

"Bite me," Nabiki deadpanned.

My grin grew wider. "I think I will."

Nabiki reddened, getting mad when I laughed. "Okay, you don't deserve to have a valentine. Give that back!" She snatched at the box.

"Never!" I held the box out of her reach, then slipped away to eat it as I ran. It was dry and tasteless, and the best damned cake I ever had.

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"We're hoooome," Kyoko playfully sang. The iron hinge whistled smoothly as she pushed the low fence gate open. The latch was lower than normal too. Kyoko had set everything up so that it was child-accessible. Skipping over to the brightly painted cement mushroom, she spun gracefully on one heel, her long skirt fluttering slightly at the movement. "Come on you slow poke!" she teased while still somehow managing to keep her refined maturity.

It hadn't been too long since I last visited, but I still felt nostalgic. Maybe it was just the atmosphere of the place. The tiny chapel that had been converted into a preschool reflected its owner, homey and cute, but with an eye for practicality. Every piece of playground equipment on the modest yard could serve multiple functions in both learning and play: cement mushrooms were both obstacles to climb over as well as chairs and the slide that had brackets for mounting an outdoor chalkboard were two of my favorite examples.

Kyoko had moved to Hyogo two decades passed. Her second husband had been a kindergarten teacher, and I guess that was why she wanted to carry on his dream. Before becoming a teacher, she had been a landlady for a low-income boarding house which was a legacy from her first husband.

As luck would have it, she had met the acquaintance of a retired nun who married a boxer. The nun had worked as a caretaker for an old chapel. Unfortunately, it had lost its share of parishioners after a new church was built nearby. She discovered Kyoko's plans, and saw that God had provided a perfect opportunity. With the nun's help, the transaction with the archdiocese of Osaka had proceeded smoothly. In exchange for the chapel and money for renovation, Kyoko traded her boarding house, and Kitayama Kindergarten was open for business six months later.

"Here you go," Kyoko said, giving me a steaming cup of green tea.

"Thanks," I said from my seat. We were in the small rectory adjoining the chapel. It had originally been intended for two occupants, which meant that Kyoko had plenty of room for herself. All the furniture was old, very old, but well cared for. She and Nabiki were polar opposites in that respect. Nabiki had thrown or sold off furniture as soon as they were even slightly damaged or out of date. Kyoko, on the other hand, seemed to keep everything. Even the table I sat next to had history. The names Kyoko and Yusaku beneath the drawing of an umbrella were carved onto the table's faded glaze.

Yusaku wasn't the only man who had left his mark however. To my right was a plain, black picture frame which held the photo of a smiling man. He had an air of maturity and dependability about him.

"He was a good man," Kyoko said, tracing my line of site. "Though, I guess you're tired of hearing that," she finished in an embarrassed tone.

"I don't mind hearing it again," I said, propping my chin on my hands. "It must be nice to still feel so much after all this time."

Kyoko gazed at me sadly. "I think you're very fortunate as well."

I looked away.

"Did something happen? It's Nagaru isn't it?" Kyoko asked.

"Naga-? Oh…Nagaru," I said weakly, and not without a little guilt. "I saw him when I visited the grave." When we first met, I hadn't been able to tell her about my curse. Nearly a year has passed since then, and I still hadn't found the right opportunity. Nagaru was the name I made up for a guy Nabiki. Nagaru was a "flow" to Nabiki's "stream". Yeah, I knew it was lame, but it was the best I could come up with.

She pursed her lips. "May I ask…?"

"We had a fight," I said, "about how I've changed, or maybe it was how I stayed the same. I'm not even sure he cares for Haruhi anymore, but then I'd never been very good at reading people."

"Chin up." Kyoko touched my arm. "You don't need him."

"I wish I could believe that." I tried to distract myself from how much I wanted to pull away from the contact. It shouldn't have been that way, had I isolated myself so much that I couldn't even enjoy being close to a good friend?

"There are plenty of other fish in the sea." Kyoko took a seat across from me and leaned in. "How about it? There are a few men that would swim across an ocean to meet someone like you."

I groaned. Kyoko was in full-blown matchmaker mode.

"You're still so young," Kyouko said. "Why not live it up a little?"

"Right back at you," I blurted out, and regretted the moment I saw the change in my friends face. "Ah…crap, sorry."

Kyoko smiled at me, though a little painfully at first. "It's okay. I was careless with your feelings. It just seems like such a waste." Kyoko's smile shifted into a genuine heartfelt one. "But, I know that those two up there are watching me, and they want me to be happy." She leaned in, adopting a conspiring tone, "If the right man comes along, I'm sure Yusaku and Soichiro wouldn't mind. Do you happen to have an older brother, Ranchan?"

The tea burned hot and fast as it sprayed put my nose. The combination of her playful nickname and the proposition was a little more than I could handle.

"Goodness, Ranko. Are you alright?" She quickly found her tea towel, and dabbed at my face.

"I'm fine," I said while not trying too hard to deflect her attempts.

"…judging by your reaction, you do have a brother, don't you?" she said, making me go rigid.

Kyoko blinked. "I was right! You do, you do have a brother! How come you haven't told me about him?" she said, a little upset.

"Um, you never asked?" I winced. Kyouko's dark blue eyes were getting teary. How the hell was she doing that so well at her age? "I'll, have him. Visit. Some. Time," the words forced themselves out of my mouth. Ranma you idiot, what did you just do?

Kyoko lit up soon as she heard me. Her happiness blinding enough that I had to face away. "Tell me in advanced okay? I should have something prepared."

"You really don't have to..."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," she said. "Your brother must be a great guy."

"How can you say that? I've never even told you anything about him. He could be some raging pervert, or a drunk, or a deadbeat!"

Kyoko stroked my cheek. "Because I know you."

"I…." She had said it so openly, so honestly. Kyoko trusted me and anyone else in my life by extension. She was naïve, and foolish, and I didn't deserve her.

She pulled me into an embrace. "It's okay to have doubts, Ranko. No one's invincible. You really have to trust yourself a little more. You're not a bad person."

Such simple words, but they were enough. What could have happened had I met her sooner? What disaster could I have avoided with her gentle council?

123123

We had been too young, too inexperienced, and too unwilling to consider sacrificing our dreams. In a lot of ways, Nabiki was right when she said the marriage was doomed to fail, yet I still wonder about how things could have been different if I had tried just a little bit harder.

Two years had passed since our move to Okinawa. Work was going well, and I had built up a reputation in the neighborhood as someone who could be counted on, which was why I was hurrying through the dark streets drenched in sweat. Building those wider stair rails to prevent old man Yukimori from slipping took longer than I had thought.

Nabiki had reminded me the week previous that it was my turn to watch Haruhi for her. The beginning of the winter season was crucial to her company's performance so she had to be free from distractions.

The damage the greeted me when I got home was worse than I expected. Nabiki was a wreck, she had rings under her eyes, hair sticking out at odd angles, and…a limp?

I picked up Haruhi who had hid behind my leg almost as soon as I arrived. "I'm sorry," I said, holding my hands up to pray for her mercy. "I'll make it up to you somehow. I'll take your turn in the kitchen and around the house for a week- no, a month!"

Nabiki stood there, lips pressed firmly into a thin line. I could tell she was holding back, her eyes on our daughter. We both agreed that Haruhi would have the best life we could provide, that included a real family that didn't rip into each other- even if that real family was a fake.

"When are you going to grow beyond playing martial artist?" she said, tiredly before returning to the mountain of papers on the kitchen table. "You're just like dad, so busy helping people who don't matter that you never have time to help the people who do."

I couldn't answer, Nabiki never understood, and she had every reason to be mad. Ever dependable Ranma Suzumiya could be counted on by everyone but his own family.

After leading Haruhi to the bedroom, I slid the door shut, and sat quietly near Nabiki. She worked silently, like a slow ticking bomb until her hand accidentally knocked over the tip of one of the larger piles. Frustrated, she flung the stack in her hands and held her face.

"God, I need an office," She said hoarsely.

I looked down. She deserved so much more than what I could give her.

I sensed Nabiki move to touch my arm, but she pulled away quickly.

"Next time, be there when I need you," she said.

"Okay."

123123

Haruhi was about five when Nabiki finally got her big promotion. We moved from Okinawa to Hyogo, a prefecture between Osaka and Kobe. Nabiki made it clear that she couldn't get away from the 'lazy country' sooner. I quit my job, and found a new one through old man Yukimori. Turned out, a friend's nephew needed an architect. Nabiki had been thrilled to learn I had a new job all lined up, and I kept quiet about how I found it.

By then, Haruhi had been going to preschool twice a week for three hours a day. That didn't include music, early math, and whatever extra classes Nabiki decided to enroll our daughter in. Nabiki still insisted on working from home despite my offer to cut back on my hours. Educational funds, preparatory schools, private international senior high schools- Nabiki had Haruhi's life planned to the week, which left me with, Sundays.

Haruhi and I were on the apartment complex roof. Thanks to the pool next door, the roof had been pretty much forgotten by the residents. The caged fence surrounding the ledges was also pretty high, which made it the perfect place to teach Haruhi the art. I know what you're thinking, but I didn't give up the art completely, far from it. Soun's memory was still as strong in me as it was years ago. Part of that meant I could no longer teach Anything Goes because the sacrifice required of the student was too great, and also because of the duty I had to Akane. Anything Goes was something personal between us and teaching without Akane's permission felt wrong.

Frankly, I didn't have much else to offer Haruhi. I came home with treats every so often, and helped pay for the roof over her head. The art was the only other thing of value I could give her. Nabiki didn't like it, but sitting at a desk all day studying couldn't be good for a kid. I committed every Sunday, to laying out a few padded blue mats on the roof to teaching Haruhi the basics.

"Okay Haruhi, remember to keep your wrist straight," I said.

"Ha!" She threw another sloppy punch and smiled happily at the result. It didn't make any sense. She had thrown perfect punches by the end of the first day of her training, yet here we were a month and a half later without any progress. We should have been well into her first kata, yet Haruhi's form seemed to go bad whenever I tried to teach her anything beyond a simple punch. Maybe it was too much for a normal girl her age to handle.

"C'mon Haruhi, you did it before. If you get it right, you can start hitting the punching bag again. You like the punching bag, right?"

"Yeah!" she cheered, her puffy brown hair bounced with enthusiasm, "let's get the punchy bag!"

"Not until I make sure that you can throw the punches in this kata."

She pouted for a second, and then smiled oh so innocently. "Why?"

"Because you might hurt yourself."

"Why?" She began to giggle. So you want to play that way, eh?

"Because hurting yourself would hurt."

"Whhhhyyyyyyy?" came her lilting query.

"Because if you don't, then I'm gonna have to start tickling." I lunged slow enough to give her a chance to run away.

I chased her around and began poking at openings in her defense, encouraging her to counter attack by letting her score a few hits. She was learning fast, enough to cover an opening after it was exploited a few times.

Was Haruhi holding herself back? I doubt the girl herself knew, and I didn't want to push so hard that she'd give up. For a moment, I wondered how Nabiki tutored her for school, but quickly dismissed the thought. Nabiki always had a plan.

123123

I did my best to pry myself away from Kyoko's arms. I couldn't depend on her too much. Sweeping a hand through my hair, I turned my gaze aside before saying, "Thanks."

Kyoko smoothed out the front of her skirt as she stood upright. "The kids have missed seeing you on Sundays."

"Heh, well, it's not every day you get to play with the world's greatest martial artist." I smiled at her attempt to cheer me up.

"Really?" she let out a playful grin, "I was thinking they just missed having another 'wild child' around."

I blushed at remembering how much I tended to clown around. Trying to salvage a little pride, I said, "You're great, Kyoko, but don't quit your day job."

"Humph," she responded with an upturned nose. I laughed.

Kyoko and I had met when I was feeling a little lost. Haruhi had been ignoring me, and the divorce had recently gone through. I was wandering around in my girl form like I usually did when I wanted to disappear for a while and somehow ended up at the chapel. She spotted me then, and asked me if I would like to help take care of the children. When I asked her why she had called out to me, she said that it looked like I needed it. I wonder what it was that she saw in me that day, and how she was able to see it.

Mystery aside, it had become a habit for me to go to her kindergarten whenever I had some free time. During the weekends, the kindergarten converted itself into a daycare center for children whose parents had to work on Sundays.

"How is Haruhi, by the way?" Kyoko asked as if she were peering into my thoughts.

"She's finally opened up again," I said, an easy smile coming to my lips. "There are rough spots, but I think it'll be okay." Hopefully the concept of assigning me a wife won't enter her head again.

"I'm glad," Kyoko said with genuine warmth. "Children should be close to their parents, even if they have their moments of disagreement…"

There was a hint of loneliness as she said that last part. Kyoko was a beautiful woman who had lived through two husbands, and yet there were no signs that she had conceived any children. I didn't ask because I wasn't sure I could. She treated the children in her care as if they were her own, however.

She led a humble life. Almost all the profits she made were invested back into providing the best place for growth and development. Her shelves were lined with books on childcare and education, and little much else.

The phone rang, catching Kyoko's attention. "Who could it be at this time of night?"

"Excuse me," she apologized, and picked up the phone in her room, and a couple of minutes later, she was hurrying towards the door.

"Hey, what's the hurry?" I got up, watching as Kyoko quickly made her way to her shelves and ran her fingers through the titles. With long-practiced movement, she pulled the book off the shelves. One quick flip through the pages, and she was satisfied that it was the one she was looking for. She then went to her cupboards. Medicines, hot water bottles, towels, and a first-aid kit were all shoved into a white tennis bag.

Kyoko messily threw a shawl on. "It's Hirota, one of my students, he's got a fever. She's Miyako's first born and she doesn't have anyone else to turn to for advice."

"I'll come with," I said already moving to follow her.

"I'm sorry," she said, laying a hand on my shoulder. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if you caught something too. This probably won't take long, but you can lock up if you need to go, please forgive me for asking this of you. I'm really in a hurry."

"Ah…"

The door closed with a final, audible click. Once again, I was alone with only crickets outside as company.

Some ten odd years ago, the silence inside the car had been deafening too.

123123

I was driving Nabiki home from work. We'd been living in Hyogo for roughly a year and a half, and we had saved enough to buy a car. I found a low-mileage Honda from a retired couple whose children had moved to Tokyo. It was a lucky find. Nabiki would have pushed to buy a new model, which was something I wanted to avoid. I hated the smell of new cars.

Explaining why I hated that smell wasn't hard. I visited plenty of places where the rich and snobby gathered. Nabiki's had her social functions, and I had to visit rich clients when the job demanded. Beneath their heavy colognes and perfumes lay the rubber, plastic, and over-processed leather.

On the whole, men stank more. Women weren't spared, but they didn't carry it as much. Sometimes, I wondered if that was all these people were made of, layers and layers of synthetic fumes. I could imagine them being blown out of existence by a strong breeze.

Some days, Nabiki would come home stinking like those people, and I'd push her to get a bath immediately. Eventually, she figured out how to use it against me. She'd come home reeking whenever I did something to annoy her, and it ate at me from the inside because the more she smelled like that, the less real she felt.

Normally, I'd stay quiet, and I don't remember why, but I had decided to talk to her for a change.

"I've been meaning to ask," I said, breaking smoothly. The boy tipped his head in thanks, and I gave a wave. "How's work?"

Nabiki was leaned back, her head resting on a propped elbow. She disinterestedly followed the boy's crossing. "Fine. Thanks for your concern."

The light turned green. "C'mon, you hardly ever talk about work when it's going well. I'd like to hear some good news for once."

Nabiki gave me a glance. "Are you really interested?"

"Wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."

"Alright," she said, "there's some restructuring going on at the branch right now."

"You're job's not in any danger is it?"

"Please, the day I get fired is the day I give up money all together."

"So, what's up?" I noticed the sharp gleam in Nabiki's eyes; the same one she got whenever she was plotting.

"Chief Yasugawa wants to cut down the number of staff in the accounting and second production section in order to cut costs. His plan is sound until you take into account meeting the quota with such a streamlined staff during next quarter's peak season."

"Have you told him anything?" My grip tightened around the wheel. "You're the special advisor for human resources, right?"

"Nope. I've heard he's been informed, repeatedly, but he isn't listening. There's nothing else to do, really. I'll advise him on how to get what he wants done as quickly as possible."

"You shouldn't toy with people's lives like…." I trailed off, noticing her glare.

"Don't. You. Dare," she ordered, steady determination pushing every syllable instead of the bubbling anger I expected.

"Yasugawa is old and on the way out. He hung on to his high position solely through connections and family favors. He has no real grasp of today's economic realities. The branch is sinking, Ranma, and this plan is his last ditch attempt to bail out."

"You could help him. We're pretty well off. We can afford it."

"It's not about money. Once his dismal failure becomes plain enough that even the higher ups can't turn a blind eye, I'll be able to step in and fix his screw-ups. I'm already moving right now, contacting everyone he plans to downsize. All that effort is useless unless he and most of his buddies are cleared out fast enough that they can't regain a foothold."

I pulled into our underground parking spot, and shut off the engine. "I know you can do this without clearing him out. You're the best."

Nabiki exited first. "What I am or am not capable of is irrelevant. The bottom line is that old stock like Yasugawa are on their way out."

"It's better for everyone if he realizes that and stands aside." She closed the car door, leaving me with the feeling that other doors had closed as well.

She never said a word about work after that. I'm not really sure of the reasons. She may have decided I didn't understand and would never be able to, or maybe she felt betrayed by how I didn't have her back. A malicious part of me even hoped that it was because she wanted my approval and not receiving it hurt her.

123123

Memories of that sunny afternoon drive only made the rectory's emptiness more pronounced. I tried to distract myself by browsing the bookshelf that Kyoko had used earlier—might as well read something to pass the time.

Haruhi and Mikuru were probably home by now, but Kyoko wanted me to stay. Part of me also thought that be the girls would like some time on their own, and that Haruhi wouldn't do anything too bad or dangerous to Mikuru. Nabiki and I had taught her better than that. I hope.

There were shelves in every room filled with more titles on education or childcare. Kyoko was passionate, no doubt about it.

"Doesn't she have anything she reads for fun?" I poked around. She probably had some cheesy romance novels stuffed away somewhere. I was tempted to find them, but decided against it. This wasn't my house, and I might see something she wouldn't want me to. There was always a balance. Kyoko had a special bond with children, and yet, even after two husbands, there were no signs that she had any of her own. There were things about Kyoko past that couldn't be asked, and an unspoken agreement had passed between us early on.

Decision made, I picked a book about caring for teenagers and began reading. A lot of it was pretty funny. The book's author obviously hadn't met anyone remotely close to Haruhi.

123123

On Haruhi's eighth birthday, we went to a Korean barbeque house to celebrate. Nabiki had suggested the place, and I had no complaints about any meal that included grilled meat.

"Happy birthday kiddo," I said, reaching out from across the table to tussle her hair.

"Thanks, old man!" she answered, playfully batting at my hand. "Let's eat, I'm hungry."

"Haruhi, call him father," Nabiki warned, "and wait for your elders."

I waved her off, "It's all right, I used to call pop that all the-"

Nabiki's eyes narrowed.

"C'mon let's eat," I said, picking out a piece that looked done.

"Here you go, Haruhi." I added a little bit of my portion to hers.

"Yah meat!" She dug right in, unmindful of Nabiki's frown.

"You spoil her too much," she said.

"It's her birthday. Can't you let it go?" I happily watched Haruhi stuff the meat and vegetables into her mouth. It brought back memories of eating at the Tendo table and fighting the panda over food.

"Haruhi, after we're done eating, how about we spend the day at the amusement park? I'll win you anything you want."

Haruhi looked at me with sparkly eyes. "Really?"

Nabiki cut in. "No."

"Huh, why?" I asked. "We don't have plans do we?"

"Yes, actually, we do," she said before facing Haruhi with a smile. "Wait here. I'll go get your present in the car."

Haruhi waited for Nabiki to leave. "Will we get to go to play the games and go on rides?" she asked, though her tone she suggested she had given up hope.

"I don't know. Your mom seems to be pretty excited… I can take you another day." What was the gift? Why hadn't I been told?

"It won't be my birthday then," she said softly.

"I…." Nabiki came back with a large black nylon bag in her arms.

"Happy birthday, this is pretty expensive so it's from both me and your father." She handed Haruhi the bag. "Go ahead, open it."

Haruhi opened the zip and pulled tennis racquet. "Aww, thanks mom," she smiled, testing the string with her fingers.

"There's also an entire change of clothes. I have a court booked for our personal use two hours from now. I can teach you how to play. Won't that be fun? We should finish eating, and then we can go get dressed and review the rules."

I caught Haruhi glancing at me out the corner of her eye. "I can't wait," she said, sounding a little flat to my ears. Nabiki didn't seem to notice.

'Tennis is a good sport,' I reasoned. If I said anything, Nabiki would have brought up the art, which was an argument I couldn't win. I couldn't make her see that the art was more than the brawls I fought, or the crutch Soun used to shirk his duties as a father.

123123

Haruhi steadily grew more reserved in my presence and Nabiki's. Despite that, we carried on. I still had Sunday's with Haruhi, and Nabiki would make attempts on odd days to arrange family activities. She made it a point that we attend the local festival annually despite her personally having no interest in participating.

It was while discussing plans on a lazy Saturday afternoon that the inevitable finally happened- in more ways than one.

Nabiki had tripped, splashing me with enough cold barley tea to trigger the curse.

"Mom?" We both turned woodenly to the apartment entrance. Haruhi had returned.

Nabiki was the first the regain her wits. "Haruhi, what are you doing here? Don't you have piano lessons?"

"Mr. Harisen has a cold." Haruhi beamed, entirely too happy about the fact. "Keiichi's parents won't come to get him for another hour so I brought him over here." She indicated him by raising the hand she held.

I looked at her hand, which was connected to the hand of a boy her age. My daughter, of course, was completely oblivious to the blush on the little jerk's face.

"Who are you?" Haruhi asked, addressing me.

The shock from seeing her hold hands with a boy turned into a full blown crash as I began to grasp that this was the first time Haruhi had seen the curse. I babbled incoherently, unable to piece thoughts together.

Luckily, Nabiki was there. "She's my cousin, your Aunt Ranko. You probably don't remember her, you were only a baby the last time she saw you…right Ranko?"

"Huh? Oh, umm…" I switched into Ranko mode without thinking. "Hi Haruhi! My, how you've grown since the last time I saw you, and so pretty too!" I gushed.

As I neared, Haruhi wrinkled her nose. "Why are you in dad's clothes?"

Crud. "Uh…I'm, err…a wandering martial artist?" I heard Nabiki slapping a hand on her face, a sign that I had picked the wrong story. "Right…that's what I am, I'm on a training trip. I borrowed your father's clothes because mine are wet." I smiled, glad to have cleared a major hurdle.

"Then how come you're still wet now?" There was a certain amount of pride attached to having such a sharp daughter, leaving my dull mind to chew over the bitter sweet sensation of having that wit used against me.

"Ahahaha, don't pay attention to such small details." I lifted her by her armpits and swung her around so that she was riding on my shoulders. Haruhi squealed in delight.

"Let's go to the roof where I can show you a few moves." This maneuver also had an unexpected advantage of keeping my face from Haruhi's view.

I stared down at the boy, giving him a liberal taste of the fear of death. "Your efforts to escort Haruhi to her home are well appreciated. You may take your leave."

"H-hai!" The boy scrambled out the door.

"See you next week, Keiichi." Haruhi waved goodbye. "Aww, I was hoping he could join us too, Aunt Ranko."

"Heh, maybe next time." I grinned.

123123

Haruhi and I faced off on the rooftop, bare cement under our feet. I hadn't needed to lay blue mats out since she had learned to take a fall. Rooftop winds whipped about dramatically, setting the scene for a pair of rivals.

"Don't expect me to lose," Haruhi said, giving in to the theatrics. Bending her knees, she chose a narrow kenpo stance, which gave her maximum reach while offering the narrowest possible target.

"Likewise," I replied, oddly excited. Like slipping into an old pair of slippers, I took the Anything Goes non-ready stance, hands in my pockets, looking undefended. In hindsight, I should have used another style- one she wasn't familiar with- but old habits die hard.

In my defense, I had other things on my mind.

"Nice stance," Haruhi commented, "you seem completely undefended when you're really not." I knew in the back of my mind that Haruhi had been holding herself back, yet to be able to analyze her opponent to this degree was impressive.

"An opening!" Haruhi charged forward with a spinning side kick, and I reflexively jumped away, flipping into a back hand spring.

I grinned, taking a more offensive stance. "You got moves, kid."

I saw Haruhi's eyes nearly popping out of their sockets…ah, crud.

"Hey, no fair!" She pointed at me accusingly. "You can fly!"

'Stupidstupidstupid,' went my internal chant. Giving up on the 'act', I decided to blow caution to the wind. I couldn't lie to save my life. Nabiki usually covered the details for me. The partial truth would have to do.

"Heh, well I'm no ordinary martial artist, and I didn't fly, I jumped real high. The power of Anything Goes martial arts is fearsome. You've proven yourself a worthy adversary. From now on, I will treat this as a- hey!"

Haruhi had already closed the distance between us while I was busy with the dramatic speech. "My old man taught me that all the fight starts immediately after a challenge is issued." She thrust knife-hand at my chest.

I danced around her strikes, sweating at her interpretation. That wasn't what I had in mind when I taught her about challenges. It was supposed to mean disciplined mental preparation to avoid being caught unguarded in a fight. In hindsight, repeatedly ambushing Haruhi to teach her the importance of being constantly alert probably wasn't the best idea. I turned a slight shade of green when I realized that I had Haruhi going through some of pop's old training techniques without realizing it.

I softly blocked an uppercut with my forearm. Haruhi was good, better than she ever was in our regular sparring matches. I was glad that the training stuck, and it was a relief to know that Haruhi would be capable of protecting herself from anyone who might try to attack her.

My biggest worry was that she misunderstood more of my teachings than not.

Haruhi lasted for another twenty minutes, going full power till the very end.

Panting, Haruhi stood tall and pointed. "Hah, if you think I won't be able to land a hit on you, you have another thing coming!"

"You're about a hundred years too early for that." I gave her a cocky grin.

"Fine," said Haruhi, "you've forced me to use my sure hit kill technique!"

I readied a defensive stance. "Bring it."

Haruhi charged. Her feint to the left had been obvious- it's what came after, that wasn't.

"Double Dragon Comet!" she screamed the name of her attack, which was really just a sloppily improvised two-legged flying kick. It was such a silly move that it reminded me of pop whenever he got desperate. The momentary lapse in concentration almost let her hit me. Almost.

She flew past my right shoulder and received a bruised rear for her trouble. I thought about catching her, but then she wouldn't have learned a lesson about recklessness.

"Ow," she said, lying on her back unmoving. Apparently, she had no intention of getting back up.

"Guess that's enough for today," I said, satisfied with her performance. She had impressive stamina for someone who didn't train everyday like I did.

I laid myself beside Haruhi and relaxed to the rhythm of her breath. It had been decades since I had so much fun. Sure, there were the odd training trips, but I was always on my own or with strangers.

"You know my old man really well." It wasn't a question.

I hurriedly propped myself up. Haruhi didn't bother to move. "W-what gave you that idea?"

"It's useless to hide it. You're a lot better than dad, but you move the same." She wrinkled her brow. "I can't describe it."

Pulling herself into sitting position, she grinned. "You liked him didn't you?"

"What? No! Listen, you got the wrong idea…." I trailed off, realizing that the nature of the 'right idea' was equally a mystery. Ranko was a phantom, and Anything Goes shouldn't have existed in her world, and yet, both were undeniably a part of me. I set the thought aside and focused on her question. "Wait a minute, how does a girl your age know these things?"

Haruhi rolled her eyes in a particularly Nabiki-esque fashion. The execution flawlessly sent the message that I was behind the times. "Please, I'm already eleven," she said as if it explained everything. "Besides… I know you're lying."

Bringing her knees in, she curled her arms around them. "I can tell. Mom gives me plenty of practice."

"…what do you mean?" I asked, a little disturbed that Nabiki had been lying to her enough that Haruhi could tell without difficulty.

"Happens a lot, especially when I ask questions about what pop is up to." Her features became more sullen, "he always keeps quiet no matter what she says."

So that's what this is about….

"I'm sure he has his reasons," I said softly.

"You have it made, Aunt Ranko. On the road, going wherever you want, having all sorts of cool adventures and going on quests. Ah," she waved a hand in reservation, "I'm not saying I hate my life, my class has the most interesting people in the world, and my parents are, well, they're okay."

'Okay' I repeated silently, ashamed that was all I could afford to be. I shook my head, getting side tracked wouldn't do me any good. I could brood later. Right then I had a chance to speak with Haruhi without the usual distance separating us.

"What's so interesting about your class?" I asked.

Haruhi's pursed her lips in thought when she couldn't reply instantly. A moment later, her eyes grew bright and she nodded to herself in affirmative.

"You figure it out?" I prodded.

"Yup, it's because they can do anything!"

"Huh?"

"My classmates, they go all over the place, doing all sorts of neat things," she elaborated while leaning closer, "Jiro was able to go to England and see Big Ben, Yuuta went to Egypt and explored the sphinx with his uncle, and Sumie and her mom visit people together at the hospital."

"That does sound pretty impressive."

"Me, I got to spar with an aunt who's a master martial artist!" She spread her arms out wide enough to hug the world. "In my class, I bet we have all the best experiences. Everything anyone could ever want is in life is in my class, and all of us can go on collecting more and more."

"I bet you guys will," I said. It was a good feeling, seeing the next generation with such rich lives and unlimited possibilities. They made the sacrifice well worth it.

"That's not all, even normal days are fun. We swap stories and play the best games- of course, I always win- and we have a special rule where the losers have to pay a penalty that the winner decides!"

That's my daughter. "Good girl, we play to win." I paused. "You don't ask them to do anything bad do you?"

Haruhi's eyes widened. "Of course not! Penalty games are no fun when people cry. I'm not mean!" She said, folding her arms.

"Sorry, sorry," I apologized hastily, "I'll treat you to ice-cream later."

"Humph, I suppose I'll forgive you."

"Your generosity is overwhelming," I thanked the tiny queen.

"Anyways," she scratched her nose, "my class is interesting, and that's why I like my life, but…"

She fiddled with a strand of her bangs. "But that's also why I worry about my old man, he's so trapped, like he's given up on living- not like my class, and not like me." She tucked her chin behind her knees.

I smiled tenderly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure whatever your father chose to do, he has no regrets. If he really did trap himself, I think he did it so that you can be free."

"In any case, you said I know him, and you are right." I winked at her. "Let's just say I was his constant companion before he met you mother. I'm an expert when it comes to him so anything I say about him has to be true."

Haruhi smiled. "I've decided! From now on, you're my favorite aunt."

"Oh, better than you like Aunt Kasumi?" I teased.

She pursed her lips, and considered. "Aunt Kasumi is a different kind of favorite I think."

I rolled my eyes, imitating the maneuver she had done earlier. "Yeah, well I guess you're right. No one can compare to Aunt Kasumi!"

Haruhi giggled and I followed suit.

123123

As expected, the book I had gotten from Kyoko's shelf hadn't been much help. I flipped yet another page in the futile hope that there was something in it that could give me an answer to the questions I had. I wondered if this knowledge had ever served Kyoko well, because it sure as hell wasn't helping me.

Haruhi's sparring match with Ranko was the first time she had ever revealed understanding more than Nabiki and I gave her credit for. I was able to gain a tiny freedom, and as a result, I had learned more about my daughter and family in the span of a few hours than I ever did in years- all thanks to my curse. What frustrated my more than anything was that she wouldn't have let me in otherwise, not as her father.

There was a distance between Haruhi and me just like there was one with me and Kyoko. The big difference came in their affects. Kyoko and I were two of a kind. We both had problems, and being together made them lighter even though we maintained our distance. More to the point, our friendship was strong because we could comfortably keep some things unsaid while relying on each other.

With Haruhi, the distance was more like a rift. A rift that just continued to grow, preventing me from acting until it was too late. I just hoped that I'd succeed at getting through this time around.

123123

When Haruhi was twelve, Nabiki had planned a baseball high school championship game for one of our family outings. I wasn't a big fan, and I hadn't ever seen Nabiki watch a game on TV. We lived within driving distance of Koshien Stadium though, and it was supposed to be a major attraction every normal family in the prefecture went to at least once.

"Haruhi should see the best play," Nabiki said. "These kids have spent years preparing for this one game. Out of the two teams, only one makes it to the top. I want her to watch, to let her see that even the best is always one step away from falling."

In the dark tunnel leading to the bleachers, the three of us walked together with Haruhi in the middle holding our hands. As we strode further, the bright light at the end intensified until we were greeted by the sight of the entire stadium. It was the first time I had seen so many people all at once. The pamphlet Nabiki gave me did have a picture similar to what I was seeing, but you couldn't really wrap your head around the numbers and energy unless you were there yourself.

"Pop," Haruhi tugged, looking dazed, "how many people are here…?"

Oops, no time to be feeling awe, I had a daughter who needed me.

"Around…fifty-thousand," I answered from fuzzy recollection. Oh why hadn't I read more carefully?

"Those are our seats," Nabiki pointed, "we should get to them before that fat man cuts us off…."

The game had been great. It was close until the end. One of them had to lose though. The winning team got praise well deserved. Fans streamed into the field, shouting for joy. I couldn't help but look at the other team though. The memory of their tear streaked faces will stay with me forever.

"What'll happen to the losing team?" I turned to Nabiki.

"Not much," she shrugged, trying to seem uninterested. However, her slightly too casual tone told me something else entirely. "They'll graduate high school, probably with substandard grades. Training for this game would leave them little time for much else, including academics."

I smiled and put a hand on hers. "They'll be fine," I said comfortingly, "I know I am."

The sudden look of apprehension crossing her face caught me by surprise.

"Nabiki?" I asked.

"It can't be that simple," Nabiki looked down at her closing hands.

"What isn't?"

She didn't respond.

Finally, after several painful minutes, she turned to me. "I can't change so easily, devoting myself to second place, settling for a reality without dreams- I can't live that way."

Was that an apology? For what? I wished that she would just tell me, but something held her back.

You're probably wondering why I bothered telling you this, and to be honest, I am too. Haruhi and Nabiki had been strangely quiet during the entire game. Pointing out interesting people on the way home had met with almost no response, which was a shame—you wouldn't believe what some fans do to show off their dedication.

When we got back, the first thing both Nabiki and Haruhi did was to seal themselves in their respective rooms, insisting that they were tired.

Only by remembering now do I see that the baseball game had been an important day. You see, in addition to my talk with Haruhi as Ranko, seeing myself in the players in that game had changed how I thought the world worked. Everything gained must come at a sacrifice, and since I didn't care about what happened to me, I threw myself into my work.

I was hoping that Nabiki's respect and Haruhi's freedom would be earned by getting a bigger pay check. I was promoted to the rank of senior architect at my firm, and as a result, I was regularly flying all around Japan to discuss projects with perspective clients.

Travel, meetings, long hours at the desk, and generally dealing with other people's problems had left me completely burned out on the days I did get to go home.

123123

One Saturday evening, I came home to a pitch black apartment. "Ugh, I'm home." I said, not expecting any reply. They must have both gone to bed already, which was what I wanted to do.

"…welcome home," said a figure in the darkness.

"Gah!" I jumped before squinting to get a better look. "Nabiki?"

"Yup."

"You're sitting in the dark…"

"Yes I am, Captain Obvious," she quipped.

I stepped closer, and recoiled. The stench of sake hung heavily in the air. She was looking the window to a starless night.

"You're drunk."

"We need to talk. Haruhi isn't happy with the school we picked for her." she said, "We better do it now since I don't know when the next time Chief Architect Suzumiya will grace me with his presence."

"If you want to say something, just say it." I was tired and hungry. The last thing I needed was a drunken talk.

"You're always not-"

"Damn it, Nabiki," I snapped, knowing what she was going to say. "I'm getting ahead. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I'm helping the right people and climbing up the corporate ladder, what more can I do?" I demanded, the strain from being pulled by her in all directions undoing my control. For years I had been convinced that my past life was worthless, but the day I spent with Haruhi as Ranko had given me insight. Ranko was, in part, who I could have been. Spending time being Ranko let me finally recognize the value of my sacrifice.

Nabiki sat, struggling to bring order to her thoughts. "Don't…"she faltered, "don't you have dreams of your own?"

I was a bit taken aback by the question, Nabiki did care. Kneeling beside her, I gently put her arm over my shoulder. "That's not important," I said. "I can't do everything- no matter how much I wish I could."

"I suppose not," Nabiki relented, and stood up shakily. She was normally so unwavering- so brisk. It was almost as if she had lost her strength.

Almost as if she had been… defeated.

"Nabiki?" I asked, concerned.

She offered me a weak smile. "I'll be fine. You can't shoulder the burden yourself-I just have to try harder." She headed towards our room. "Let's go to bed. Could you talk to her tomorrow?"

"I'll try," I promised. In hindsight, I should have toughed it out, but neither of us had enough left to fight a protracted battle.

123123

I awoke the next morning to a quiet kitchen. Haruhi was alone, spooning soggy cereal into her mouth. That was the first sign of trouble. Haruhi ate like I did; soggy cereal would normally be impossible.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a seat. I wasn't feeling hungry anyways.

Haruhi ate another spoonful and swallowed. "Nothing, Pop."

Something was wrong. "Where's your mother?" I asked.

Haruhi said nothing.

"Okay, spill," I ordered.

She knew that I wasn't going to budge, and she decided to give in. "Mother wants me to go to Kouyouen Academy after junior high." Ah, this was what Nabiki had been talking about.

"Kouyouen? Isn't that the all-girl's high school? That's a good school." I shared the same opinion- the place had the best of everything, and the tuition fees to prove it. If Haruhi went to that school, she'd have universities knocking at our doorstep.

"Yeah, great. For mom," Haruhi said.

I leaned on my chair. I had thought this would happen eventually. Haruhi valued her freedom, and as much as she loved her mother, it was a small miracle they hardly argued.

"Where do you want to go then?" I asked.

Haruhi turned to the side. "I…haven't decided yet."

"Well, as long as you don't have anywhere specific in mind, I don't see the harm in listening to your mother-"

Haruhi raised her head. "You want me to go to Kouyouen too," she accused. "You always take her side!"

"I just don't get why you wouldn't want to go. Your mom only has what's best for you in mind."

She slammed her hands on the table. "I want to decide! I'm not just another version of her!"

I was at a loss. Nabiki had planned Haruhi's childhood. Instead of giving Haruhi a choice, was she really limiting our daughter's direction in life?

"Forget it," she dismissed. "People like you and mom will ever understand." She ran.

"Haruhi!" I almost went after her, but my cell phone rang.

"Suzumiya here." I listened to the person on the other end. There had been an accident at the construction site. Several of the builders had been injured including the chief contractor. 'This can wait,' I told myself, hurrying to the car.

It may come as no surprise to you, but I was wrong again. I was so busy dealing with the aftermath of the accident that the entire high school problem had slipped my mind.

123123

Four months later, Nabiki left. She had given me sole custody of Haruhi, the apartment, and nearly all our savings. Any attempt to contact her failed. I stopped trying after a while. The many stresses had taken their toll- from Nabiki's prediction of our marriage's end to the construction site accident, the many cracks had built up until collapse became inevitable.

I shut the book, just as the door opened to reveal a panting Kyoko. She had run back, but why?

"How's Hirota?" I asked, replacing the book I had borrowed.

"He's going to be healthier than ever in a day or two."

"I'm glad," I said not knowing what else to say. Kyoko hadn't moved from her spot at the door, and there was a strange tension filling the air.

"About your brother coming over to visit… I can understand." Kyoko swallowed. "I think I went too far when I insisted that he come over. I got so carried away when I learned something new about you that I wasn't thinking."

I looked at her, wide eyed for a second. Was that what she had been worried about? That she had somehow broken our silent agreement? It had totally slipped my mind. She ran over because she wanted to apologize. I couldn't help being happy at the extent of her concern.

I went over and gently laid my cheek on hers, fighting through how awkward I felt about the contact. Thank you, Kyoko. It's me who should be saying sorry. I have too many secrets, yet you welcomed me despite it all."

Kyoko brought me into another forceful hug. I could tell she was crying a little. I hoped they were tears of joy because she deserved no more grief. It was strange in a way. We weren't the oldest of friends, and yet we shared this bond.

Maybe someday, I could lay it all out in the open. For now, we're two columns sharing the same load, and we were both stronger for it.

Author's Notes:

Haha, thanks for all the reviews, and poking me every so often. It reminds me that there are people who are waiting for me to share this story. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter, and writing the next chapter with those thoughts in mind.

I'd like to thank Fallacy for being my plot and editor monkey, Yasuhei for beta reading, Pat and PCHeintz72 for their spelling and grammar corrections.

TFF reviewers Inverted Helix for typo corrections and Sect for a joke correction.


	6. Chapter 5a

Disclaimer: Ranma and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi are not mine.

Friendly reminder: Knowing Ranma One-half is the only requirement for understanding this fic. I'll be giving all the necessary information about The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi as needed.

Demiglace Graffiti: Chapter 5a

By ToastedPine

In the woods, and on the road, rest was essential to a martial artist's survival. I learned to sleep through just about anything. The training made me strong, strong enough to face the challenges of a career and Nabiki's constant demands. Sleep not only rejuvenated my body, but also gave my soul an essential reprieve. I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. That was what had happened last night, and the night before that, and the night before that…

But not tonight.

The clock on the nightstand read 11:45. Sleep would not come. I forced myself to stay still, and tried to relax, but the words and pictures falling like rain in the blackness of my consciousness would not subside.

And at the forefront of that torrent was Nabiki at the Tendo ancestral marker. She didn't have to be that vicious. I had done nothing to provoke her.

Maybe she had been under a lot of stress. She had her own problems if what happened at the office two weeks ago was any indication.

123123

"Waoh," I said, startled at someone bumping into my chest. I looked down at the thinning comb-over, it was Akaya.

"Mr. Suzumiya," the middle aged man said. He was sweating enough that patches of his shirt's underarms were soaked. "You've finally arrived. Hurry, the boss is waiting for you in conference room one."

"What about?"

"No time! Get your rear over there, Mr. Yamazaki will fill you in," He said while quickly waddling away.

I grimaced. He was in such a hurry that he couldn't even take a second to give me the heads up? Yamazaki was a decent guy, but he tended to overreact to the smallest things. We seemed to be expecting a big client. Sighing, I braced for the worst before heading for the conference room.

"Take a seat," Mr Yamazaki said. He was standing at the head of the conference table. The rest of the top guys were already there. His calm exterior reminded me of a military general about to go into battle. I smirked. There was more to him than I thought.

"Now that we're all here, let's get started." Yamazaki tucked his hands behind him and walked to the edge of the conference table. "As most of you already know, I received a call this morning from the Torajiro Conglomerate."

Muted conversation arose. Yamazaki had anticipated the interruption and waited for people to settle down. Torajiro was an uncommon name, I'd heard it somewhere before.

"Ms. Fujiwara?" Yamazaki nodded.

"The Torajiro Conglomerate has its own architectural firm. Why would they come to us?"

Yamazaki tilted his glasses to catch the light. "I'm glad you noticed. This is the reason why I've gathered you all. As much as it pains me to admit, I don't see what they could possibly want from us. We're a small, unknown company with limited manpower. Hiring us would only cost them money."

Once again, silent discussion began. Yamazaki clapped his hands loudly. "Calm down, we're basing our theories solely on numbers. I believe in the talent in this room. We need to work together if we're going to carve ourselves a path in this industry. Now, let's get to work…."

By the end of the half-hour meeting, we managed to calm ourselves despite not having formulated a concrete plan. The representative had been tight-lipped about the conglomerate's intentions so all we could really do was ready ourselves to move.

It was around three in the afternoon when a large foreign car pulled into the building. I was told to wait in my office while Yamazaki handled the tour and introductions.

Having nothing better to do, I busied myself with rearranging my desk. I had almost finished an eraser pyramid when I heard a knock.

"Come in."

Yamazaki entered, followed by the guest. My first impression was that he was lean, but large. His body type matched Ryouga's with his thick biceps and broad shoulders. The biggest difference was that, at around six-foot three, the man was a lot taller. He also had a square-set jaw covered by an expertly trimmed beard.

"This is him?" He asked, eyes boring into me.

"Yes, this is Mr. Suzumiya," Yamazaki replied. "He's the fastest concept designer in our company. If you have a vision, I'm confident that he can make it into reality-"

"Thank you Mr. Yamazaki," He said, having already seated himself. "You have made it abundantly clear that I've come to the right place. I wish to converse with Mr. Suzumiya, in private. We have," he paused, "a vision to discuss."

"Understood. A secretary will be outside if you need anything." Yamazaki exited.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Torajiro." I moved to shake his hand, and almost choked when I got a whiff of him. The stench of cologne over leather and plastic seemed to seep from his pores.

"Please, call me Higuma. We should be more personal if we are to build the proper rapport for a productive relationship, Ranma."

I arched eyebrow at his address. Mr. Big-shot Conglomerate was lowering himself to be my equal? No, that wasn't it. There was a hint of familiarity in his voice, like he knew me personally.

"I'm sorry," I said, "have we met?"

The side of his lips inched upward, it was almost a smile. "Perhaps, but that is all in the past. Whoever I was is gone."

What was that supposed to mean? I pushed the question aside and tried to concentrate on business. "Could you explain what your vision is?" I walked around to a drawer and pulled out some documents. "If you don't have anything concrete, I have a few design themes which can be readily adapted to almost any structure."

When I turned my attention back to him, he had shifted stiffly to the side so that one arm was supported by the backrest. On anyone else, the position would have looked informal. On him, it gave the impression of aggressive ownership of the space he occupied. "I have a woman who I've been seeing for quite a while, almost three years. I want to make the arrangement permanent."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," I said, wondering why he was talking to me about his love life.

He pulled out a long, silver case from his pant pocket. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

I frowned. "There are smoke detectors connected to our sprinkler system."

"I see," he said with a cigar already between his lips.

My eyes narrowed. He was playing with me. "Why are you here?"

He grinned. "I have a plot of suburban land where I want the two of us to reside."

The guy approaches YS with an offer of a corporate project, but then turns around and asks me to design a house? We specialize in office buildings. He shouldn't be here. He knew me somehow- maybe he was someone from my past who wanted revenge. This could get ugly. Yamazaki needed to be told.

"I'll have to clear this with my superior first." I hoped that whatever he was here for wouldn't force me to quit. I didn't want the company mixed up in my problems, but the biggest thing on my mind was Haruhi. Job hunting would severely cut into my free time. She didn't deserve to be neglected again. The room was suffocating, and I wanted to get out. His presence and the bittersweet odour of the tobacco he used had tainted the surroundings, messing with my ability to-

The world faded into a hot white; all the clues coalesced: his position, his manner, his scent.

A trace of him was there that day I visited the cemetery.

Something snapped, and I found myself with fist outstretched. The conglomerate head was blown off his chair.

It didn't take long for Yamazaki to burst through the door. "Suzumiya!"

Worry at the how he was doing; remorse from letting myself lose control; relief that I hadn't put that much of myself into the punch— they were all so loud.

Higuma stood and wiped the blood from the side of his mouth with a handkerchief.

Yamazaki gaped at the scene like a goldfish.

"I…."

Yamazaki glared. "Explain yourself?"

There was nothing to say, I was—

"I am unharmed." Higuma said, "You may leave."

The boss head was fast enough to cause whiplash. "But-"

"An accident. I fell off my chair," he said, dusting himself off a good three meters away from an upturned chair. "Suzumiya saw what was about to happen, and tried to prevent it. Isn't that right?"

His eyes were hard enough to shatter diamond. I swallowed. "Yes."

Yamazaki babbled while gesticulating wildly, but he eventually gave up. "Please, take your time."

I barely noticed the door close. Higuma had already seated himself. "I don't suppose you would mind providing me an explanation."

The whit rush in my head was fading. "She- you came because of Nabiki."

"Oh?" he said, "I did not expect that my identity would be revealed so soon."

I ignored the implied barb. Little by little, my mind was catching up to what my body had acted on. "You came here showing off your status and playing games, and then you request something unreasonable. Is this some sort of sick power move? You think that I'll dance to your tune and unwittingly design a place for you and Nabiki? I'm not stupid."

Higuma shook his head. "I'm afraid you are mistaken. I fully intended to reveal that the woman I am having relations with is your former wife, but I wanted to get acquainted first."

I glared at him. He had to do better than that flimsy excuse.

As if reading my mind, he sighed. "I suppose you have the right to know. Speaking frankly, I respect you."

"…what?"

"You, who lived as Nabiki's husband for more than a decade, have more wisdom and experience than you give yourself credit for."

"Not nearly enough," I said darkly.

"Be that as it may, I have come, not as an aggressor, but as an ally who… wishes Nabiki happiness. I want to build a life with her, and what I'm asking is that you assist me in this endeavour. I came expecting a gentleman, and in hindsight, I admit that my approach may have been unorthodox. I do hope that my judgment of character wasn't likewise mistaken….

I grit my teeth. It was galling to think that he might be covering his hypocrisy with pretty words, but my gut told me that he was on the level. Besides, he had no reason to come to me. Hell, he was giving me a chance to interfere with his relationship. I could have told Nabiki what he was doing, and probably ruin this guy's chances with her in the process. Maybe he really was facing me head on. Nabiki could have lingering feelings for me, and this was his warped way of coping.

"No," I finally answered. We had one thing in common, Nabiki. We may be divorced, but I wasn't about to turn down an opportunity to make sure she was okay.

"Good," he said, opening his suitcase. "Here is the information you need."

I took the folder in his hands and flipped through it. The property description inside was impressive: a large piece of flat land overlooking a valley. There was even a private road already built for easy access, and a small man-made pond nearby. "You're looking to build a mansion?"

"I desire a worthy testament to the Torajiro name, and that necessitates a property of sufficient size. I give you full control over the general architecture—with a few minimal requirements."

"And those would be…?" I prompted.

"The estate should be a fortress of comfort. As such, there will be no room for offices within the building. Business shall stay outside. My second stipulation would be two separate wings, one with the master bedroom, and another with rooms suitable for children- should the decision come to have them. In addition, architecture must be western. I dislike the traditional Japanese estate. You are free to disagree, and I shall take that under advisement."

I thought I had prepared for this, but seeing Nabiki with a guy who was everything I was not stung like rubbing salt on a wound.

"Does… does she have any idea what you're up to?" I asked.

"If you are referring to Nabiki, no, she does not."

"Do you have a death wish?" I looked at him bug eyed. "You can't decide this on your own."

"She will be informed and given her fair share of input," he said, a slight smile on his lips. "However, telling her at this junction would not be prudent."

He was right. Nabiki had cut all ties with me and Haruhi. She would have done everything in her power to stop this consultation. Something didn't add up though. How could he know so much? Was Nabiki really that much more open with him?

"Why have the children's rooms purposefully placed in a separate wing?" I couldn't stop myself from asking. The Nabiki I knew wouldn't have wanted that. Maybe I shouldn't have been so sure, but I had to have some faith in my connection to her or this entire ordeal was meaningless.

Higuma leaned in. "Why is that significant to you?"

"You're telling me you don't want to be close to your own children?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he said "I will be a father. However, physical closeness is not strictly necessary. I can hire wet-nurses to address more immediate issues."

"This is crazy. Why would you want to keep your own flesh and blood at arm's length?"

"Because youth- no, childhood is an illusion, and the sooner they learn that, the sooner they will be ready to confront the real world."

"I grew up privileged. The economic might of the Torajiro Conglomerate's stretches back several generations. My parents, thinking that they were doing me a favour, granted my every whim. I never understood in youth why they chose business when water-skiing or travelling abroad was far more rewarding."

"Their sacrifice- wasn't that necessary?" I asked. Somewhere along the line, I had forgotten what it was like to be completely sure. Had I done right by Haruhi or myself?

"They lived in a box, while I lived in the world. I believed that was the way of things until the economy collapsed, and my parents were forced to call for me. They explained that they could no longer afford to indulge my whims, and that I had to accept the role of successor if the Conglomerate was to survive. I was ripped from the life I knew and thrown into the unforgiving world of business."

"I realized," he said, his face darkening, "that my old life had been a farce, an empty mockery fed by a river of money and influence that were never truly mine. No world is safe except the one you build for yourself. Childhood is but a fiction that parents construct. They are ultimately meaningless."

Normally, a situation like this would have gained some sympathy, but sympathy was the last thing Higuma wanted. He was telling me what he considered fact. Was I to express skepticism? No, he probably wanted me to understand him. He approached me in a professional setting for an extremely personal issue. It was his only way of reaching out.

It was sad to think that anyone could be that stunted on the inside. He might need Nabiki more than I ever did. The game wasn't done yet though. Something wasn't right.

"You've done a lot of talking, but I still don't know what you want. You've given me requirements for the design, but if they really are unchangeable parts of the plan, collaborating with me would be useless. Why bother coming here?"

"Because no world is safe except for the one you build for yourself, Ranma. Is my world strong enough to be worthy of Nabiki? This is something I must confirm."

He held out his hand, and instinctively I took it. We made eye contact as we shook hands - his expression was firmer than his grip. Wordlessly, he let go and made his way to the door.

Standing just outside my door, he paused. "Three weeks' time," he said. "That's how long you have. I await your response."

The door closed with a final, soft click, leaving me alone to untangle the ball of trouble he left behind. Higuma wanted more than just plans for a mansion, and that afternoon at the Tendo marker may have been the cause. If Nabiki's had shown signs of still having feelings for me, she'd have put him in an awkward position... not that any of his uncertainty would be warranted.

That left one other problem on my plate. Higuma hadn't guaranteed that the contract would go to YS, which meant that it was far from a sealed business deal. At least, I had thought so until I went to see Yamazaki. When I found him, my loud and skinny boss was arguing up a storm with a corporate representative.

Once he was done, he had asked to speak with me.

"So, what's up boss?" I asked.

There was the sound of a single string snapping like an over tightened violin. "What's up…what's UP. WHAT'S UP?" Yamazaki's eyes were nearly popping out of his sockets from the pressure of all the blood rushing to his face. "You just decked one of the most powerful men in all of Japan. Is that all you have to say?"

Yamazaki hyperventilated.

"Oh, that," I said lamely. With everything that was going on, I had almost completely forgotten that I had punched him.

In response, Yamazaki's bony fingers mechanically twitched themselves into claws. I could tell he wanted to wring my neck.

There was a second round of snapping like the rest of the string's companions had decided that, they too, had reached their limit.

"Well, no harm done," Yamazaki said amiably.

The hell?

He smiled at what must have been my awkward gaping. "Don't worry about it so much. In exchange for your consultation on an undisclosed property, the Torajiro Conglomerate has let this company in on a few of their projects. This is an incredibly rare opportunity. I intend to take full advantage of the attention it will get us, mwahahahahahahahaa!"

Yamazaki laughed, hands on his hips, looking like a demented super villain. I had turned the company into my battle ground, but it seemed like he didn't mind one bit.

"Suzumiya," he said, sobering out of his maniacal laughter.

"Yeah?"

He pushed up his glasses to do his signature light catching move. "I don't know what's going on between you and that man, but be careful. Don't let emotions blind your objectivity. You're on paid leave starting now. I'll assign your workload to Sato. Take as long as you need to settle this."

If I had angered Higuma, it could mean the end for YS. He was betting his company's future on me. It was a lot of pressure, but I was also strangely happy at the chance.

"Thanks, boss. I won't let you down."

123123

I worked on the Torajiro mansion for about a week, spending a day in the municipal office looking for survey records documenting soil stability and groundwater. Next, I went to the site to double check my findings by interviewing the neighbors. The last thing I did was settle in my office and crunch numbers. It was boring work, but it built homes and put food on the table.

The bed stand clock read midnight. It was no use lying in bed with my head overflowing with thoughts so I got up, flipped on the lights, and took the blueprints out of a cardboard roll.

After laying it on my work table, I looked at the entire layout again for what seemed like the hundredth time since its completion. The design was drawn to Higuma's specifications: two wings with separate staircases leading to each; one wing had the master bedroom and a ridiculously large bathroom with walk-in closet; the other wing had empty living quarters; on the first floor, there was a grand hall which led to the dining room and kitchen; a recreation room with an indoor track rested on the floor above the dining hall; and finally, a large study.

Those were the major spaces of the house. Everything was ridiculously large. The master bedroom alone would be enough to contain my entire apartment. A western design meant that the doors were solid with locks, and the walls would be drywall. It would be a far cry from the thin walls and unlocked doors that Nabiki and I grownup with. I grimaced at the collection of enclosures.

Why did Higuma even come to me for this? Considering who I was, he should be trying to get as far away from me as possible. They'd be living in a house where everything would remind them of me. Had the roles been reversed, I wouldn't be able to do the same. He was looking for an ally in me, someone whose experience he hoped would lead to his success. Was this the world beyond youth that Higuma belonged to- a world where everyone dealt with such problems with maturity and dignity?

"Old man."

I swivelled the chair and found Haruhi. "What are you doing up?"

She yawned and slowly scratched her side through the fuzzy cotton of her pyjamas. "I was thirsty. Your lights were on."

"I see…." She wasn't leaving. "Did you want something?"

I waited for her, wondering what was up. "I was—let's do something," she said in a petulant voice.

"But I thought you were thirsty?" I asked.

"Well, I can't sleep now!" she said, fully awake.

"What?" She was blaming me for waking her? "Hey!" Before I realized what was happening, I suddenly found myself stumbling along by the sleeve of my arm. She pulled me out the hallway and past the kitchen, where my bare feet squeaked against the cold tile floor until they met the warmer tatami of the adjoining living room. Once there, she redirected me onto the couch with a skilful flick of the wrist.

She sat cross legged on the floor while I sat on the couch; the low designer coffee table separating us divided far more than mere physical distance. The streetlights outside painted part of her face amber, and threw the rest into a deep shadow that emphasized her frown.

I waited for her to tell me what the deal was, but as the minutes crept past, Haruhi said nothing. I was beginning to suspect that Haruhi was waiting for me, but I was drawing blanks on what she wanted.

Haruhi's right leg, which had been shaking up and down the entire time, built from a steady thump into rapid beat before she finally snapped, "Well don't just sit there!"

"Keep it down, you'll wake the neighbours," I said…not that she was listening. I sighed, there had to be something to distract her. "What did you want to do?"

Haruhi glared. "I don't know, you're the one who's supposed to decide," she said as if stating a fact. Well, I got her attention at least. I should be happy with that. I had a feeling that if I tried to understand her justification, my head would just hurt more. I scanned the room for something, anything that would keep her busy. Haruhi was standing by then, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Turn on the lights, Haruhi," I said, eyeing a box on a shelf filled with books I didn't remember buying, "Let's do a puzzle."

123123

The receptionist at the company was a college student named Ayano. She was a nice girl who wasn't much for words. She appeared in my office one day with a jigsaw puzzle and a smile. Actually, that was the first time I had even really seen her. Messages had always appeared in yellow post-its on my desk, and it never occurred to me that there was someone behind them.

As it turned out, Ayano had been away on an exchange program to France, which would explain why the jigsaw puzzle was of the Eiffel Tower.

The puzzle had three thousand pieces, each one no larger than a ten yen postage stamp. It would take a while to finish.

The coffee table we were working on was set pretty low, with only about a foot and a quarter of clearance. I had to get up from the couch to join Haruhi in hunkering over the puzzle. After a while, a pattern had emerged: I had most of the border pieces all connected together while Haruhi had opted for the shotgun approach. She connected whatever pieces she could find, which resulted in large puzzle 'islands' that were scattered about in no discernable order.

We finished the puzzle, but not without a little frustration… well, I finished the puzzle. Haruhi kept insisting on carrying large chunks into the frame without first considering how the chunks fit together. The preassembled pieces inevitably fell apart, which made Haruhi's patience crumble to the point where she put everything down and decided to dig through our video cabinet instead.

I dusted my hands off, and took a good look at the puzzle. It covered almost a full quarter of the coffee table. The small thumbnail on the front of the box didn't do a good job of showing its contents. The Eiffel Tower at night was very pretty, and the photographer chosen had used the nightlights to good effect. I guess that was why the puzzle had been so large. The detail would have been lost had the puzzle been smaller. I frowned. Ayano must have spent a lot of money to buy this, and all I had said was a simple thank you the next day. I'll have to arrange proper repayment with the others at the office who received something from her.

The sound of panicked screams and splattering blood brought my attention to the TV. Haruhi must have found something to watch.

Our TV was a wall-mounted widescreen LCD. Nabiki got it shortly before she left us. She claimed that there were problems with the old unit. Being away from home all the time, I was hardly in a position to contest her.

When I looked up from the puzzle, I was greeted by the sight of the back of a man's head getting skewered by a kunai. The blood splatter was exceptionally clear in all its high definition glory. Hmmm, wasn't this a little too graphically violent to for Haruhi to be watching? I guess she was old enough. Partly out of concern for what my daughter was watching and partly out of curiosity at what the show was about, I took a spot on the couch.

"I don't remember having this in our collection," I said.

Haruhi nodded. "I just bought it. It's an OVA, the box looked interesting."

"Ah," I said, pretending to understand.

We watched in silence, and Haruhi inched over a little at a time. She eventually managed to lift my arm, and snuggle into my side. Her eyes never left the screen through the entire process, and I stayed quiet.

123123

What was the difference between an OVA and a movie? Maybe OVA was another term for movie. It certainly was the length of one, and the story felt very similar to a few samurai films I remembered watching, except this movie was animated. The main character was a boy named Shinta who was the only survivor of a bandit raid. Three sisters, Kasumi, Akane, and Sakura shielded the boy at the cost for their lives, buying enough time for a master swordsman to arrive and kill the remaining bandits.

Were the names simply a coincidence? I wondered how much Haruhi knew of our extended family. Akane had never come by. The only way she would have heard of her would be from Kasumi.

The master swordsman thought Shinta was too gentle a name, unfit for a swordsman. He gave the boy a new name, Kenshin. Kenshin trained under the master for a few years until he had grown unsatisfied and decided to make his own way in the world.

As the ending credits rolled, I felt Haruhi moving. "Don't you wish you could be more like Kenshin?"

I looked down. Her face hadn't been lit by the usual enthusiasm for a new idea. Something told me that the question was more than just a passing fancy.

"Be more like Kenshin? He's an assassin, which is pretty awful. You always have to be on your guard for creepy men out to get you, poison in your food, and not knowing whether or not you'll be attacked in your sleep-"

"That's not what I mean," she interrupted, then stifled a yawn and blinked herself awake. "You're too obsessed with the little inconveniences. It's just a story." Haruhi pushed off my chest so she could face me.

"I'm confused."

She put a hand to her forehead, as if a child had just given her a headache. "What's important is that Kenshin is free."

I crossed my arms. What was she talking about? Kenshin didn't seem to be able to do much aside from kill the people he was paid to kill.

The only place he could relax was around his wife, Tomoe. Who, oddly enough, started out wanting to kill him in order to avenge her fiancé whom Kenshin had assassinated.

"Kenshin was sad all the time, how can he be free?" Answer that, Professor Haruhi.

Haruhi sniffed. "He wasn't sad. He went out and did what he wanted to do, and made a name for himself. He was so famous that people knew him by reputation. He wasn't just another boring swordsman!"

"So, if you're boring, you're not free?"

"YES!"

"I'm sorry, Haruhi," I said, unconsciously slipping into 'father mode', "a lot of things in life may seem boring, but they're still very important."

"No, boring things are just boring. They're not important at all." Haruhi insisted, deflating any pride I could have felt at successfully completing a lecture. "Only normal people accept boring."

"What's wrong with normal?" I asked. Normal people had good lives.

"Because…" Haruhi began. "Because normal people live boring lives, and boring lives don't matter." Her expression hardened. "Boring people should just get out of the way if they don't want to stop being boring."

'He should stand aside. It's better for everyone,' Nabiki's voice echoed. Haruhi may have taken after her mother more than she or I would care to admit.

"Anyone can get hurt by being cast aside. The consequences are no different for them than it is for the most special person in the world."

"What consequences?" Haruhi asked. "Boring people don't do much of anything anyways. It'll be a blessing that something interesting happens to them, and they'll be able to deal with it somehow."

I rubbed my forehead. "You can't seriously mean that."

"Why not? Mom left, but we're fine," she looked down. "We don't need her. She's just… another boring person."

"Haruhi." I wanted to reach out to her, but a little bit of reproach in my voice had slipped out. It was enough to make her get up from the couch and end the conversation.

She forcefully rubbed at her eyes. "I'm getting sleepy," she said before walking to the hall way that led to our rooms.

I couldn't say anything, so I watched, hoping someday that she'd come to talk to me. I tried to forget the frustration of being unable to break through all the walls she had put up around herself.

"Old man?" She stopped just before she entered the hall, her hand resting on the wall beside her.

"Yes?" I replied. My view of her face was obstructed by the wall's shadow.

"Are you…" she trailed off. "Let's go somewhere this Sunday."

"Alright," I said, not wanting to disappoint her, "it's a date."

We hadn't gone out together since…. It was best not to think about how long it had been. Despite what beliefs she held, Haruhi was still my daughter, and she still cared for me in her own way. Why had she asked me out? Did she think I was a boring person? Did she think I was just like Nabiki? Maybe I'd get my answers on Sunday.

After walking Haruhi to her room, I returned to the coffee table. Someone needed to put the puzzle away.

123123

The next day, I found myself at a street corner. Comparing the address that I had scrawled down on a scrap of paper with the street sign, I nodded. According to Ayano, this was the place. She had given me a call a few hours prior since I hadn't been around the office to read her little notes.

Apparently, a lady had repeatedly called in to ask for me. Ayano had dubbed her 'Mystery Female Caller A' since the caller was adamant about not providing a name or contact number. Unfortunately for the caller, Ayano had gotten intrigued, and after about the seventh or eighth call, Ayano had victoriously arranged a meeting.

I scanned the streets for my mystery lady, but it was pretty useless. Fridays were especially bad because people were getting ready for the weekend.

I glanced at my watch. "How do I even recognize whoever it is?" Sighing continued to search. "I guess I can still spare fifteen minutes…."

"Um, excuse me," said a female voice.

Turning around to see who it was, I was surprised to find….

"Mikuru?"

Same long hazel hair, same round eyes—she could pass for Mikuru, but she wasn't her. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, in addition to being too tall and too… curvy.

"I-I apologise, it's been so long since- I wasn't even sure if I should come to meet you, but I found myself here and-" she gave me a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, let me start over," she said, bowing formally from the waist.

"Michiru Asahina, I'm delighted to meet you." Her voice was also deeper, like the rich sound of a clarinet to Mikuru's windy flute.

"Asahina, are you related to Mikuru?" I asked. If I didn't know any better, I could swear that Ms. Asahina was a grown up version of Mikuru. "I guess you're the one who wanted to meet."

"I'm her older sister," she nodded.

"We've never met before though. How did you know it was me?"

"Mikuru told me what you usually wear," she said hesitantly "I've heard a lot about you."

I looked down at my Chinese shirt and kung-fu pants and pulled on my pigtail, embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess I do stick out a little." Though, not that much attention- one of the nice things about modern Japanese metropolitan areas was that people tolerated a lot when it came to what you wear. As though to prove my point, a very large girl wearing a skimpy, neon-blue dress wobbled past.

"Thank you so much for taking care of her." She bowed even lower while I had been distracted.

"You're welcome," I said, quickly and gently raising her shoulders, "just stop with the bowing, people are starting to stare."

She reddened. "Oh I'm so sorry," she was about to bow again on reflex, but I held her in place. She squeaked at the contact, causing me to pull my hand away.

There were more half-muttered apologies and embarrassed looks before we finally came to our senses and started laughing. Michiru's laughter was very feminine and reserved. Come to think of it, have I ever heard Mikuru laugh?

"Mister Suzumiya," Michiru said.

I stared at her a moment. "Oh, right. Yeah, Suzumiya, that's me!" I said, causing Michiru to giggle. After all these years, I still hadn't taken to the Suzumiya name, "and call me Ranma, all my friends do."

Her eyes widened, and then she looked down, nervously wringing her hands. "T-then, umm…call me… Michiru, please."

"Michiru," I tested the name on my tongue.

Her stare was blank, then recognition flashed. "Oh, that's me!" she shook her head. I smiled. The two sisters had a lot more in common than just appearance. "Mister…Ranma," she corrected herself, "would you like to go for some tea? There's a place that I've always wanted to visit."

"Sure, why not?" I said, watching her back as she led the way. She said she was Mikuru's older sister, and I believed her more or less. Her resemblance to the one I've grown so fond of was too much of a coincidence.

We walked in silence. Michiru had pulled out the page from a magazine article, the edges were frayed, and the creases where the paper had been folded were discoloured. I hoped that whatever the place she was looking for hadn't already closed.

We eventually arrived in front of a tea-shop. The façade was very Victorian. Darkly stained cherry wood was carved into elegant swirls and lines that framed the windows and door rather tastefully. From what I could see through the glass, the inside was furnished to match, with white laced doyleys and small flower vases on every table.

It was cute, homey, and held all sorts of decorative knickknacks. A den for schoolgirls, I realized while pushing the door open for Michiru.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," I replied. School wasn't out yet. A few customers were playing hooky. Three guys in their twenties also sat at the tables, all with matching girlfriends.

The only other guy around was a well groomed gentleman had a mustache like Mr. Pringles. He manned what resembled a liquor bar, but instead of serving alcoholic beverages, the back shelves were lined with all types of coffee bean dispensers and sweet-buns.

A waitress promptly greeted us and guided us to our seats. I winced at the maid outfit she was wearing. As far as maid outfits went, it wasn't too bad. It was black and white, with the frills kept to a bare minimum. If she took off the bonnet, she could pass the dress off as a normal one. I noticed the Michiru had been looking at the waitress too, a hint of nostalgia on her face.

I took a sip of water, and I scanned the menu, which had been propped up by a white, furry, uh, thing. Michiru hadn't touched hers, apparently having decided on the Mont Blanc cake set from the very beginning.

I felt my mouth water a little when the waitress brought over the sample cakes, but I resisted the temptation and ordered a small sundae. Michiru blinked when she heard my order.

"I like ice-cream." I said, and smiled crookedly.

"Ah, I didn't know that."

I put my elbows on the table, leaned in to rest my chin on my knuckles. "She's told you about my taste in food too? It seems as if Mikuru shares everything with you."

"…in a way," she answered.

"Your Mont Blanc cake set, miss, and your sundae, sir." The waitress arrived, and gave us a parting bow after delivering the order.

Michiru's cake was a small, very luxurious affair. It had a generous amount of cream icing, crushed chestnuts, and drizzled chocolate. She scooped a small piece of the cake into her mouth and closed her eyes with a slow sigh.

Every so often, she'd sneak a peek at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I didn't really know what to make of her behaviour. I couldn't detect a suspicious aura from her. I waited until she finished the cake before I ordered some hot tea for the two of us. The house blend at the time was very western, which was bad. Chrysanthemum was the only flower I liked in my tea. Everything else I've tried was like drinking perfume.

Michiru stirred some cream into her tea, fading the white liquid into the murky brownness and kept stirring past that point.

"You probably want to know why I invited you here today," she said after a while.

"Mikuru never mentioned that she had an older sister," I said. "I am a little curious."

Michiru pursed her lips. "Our situation is difficult to explain. Nevertheless it is important that you know some of it."

"She seems to share a lot with you," I said.

"Oh, she does," Michiru replied quickly, "though, that's more a matter of circumstance."

"Circumstance?"

"My occupation is in the area of government intelligence," she said, her voice low enough so that only I could hear her. "My family has been involved in this business for generations. Unfortunately, telling you any more is against regulation," she said apologetically. She had constructed the same wall that Mikuru was so adept at creating- one that said that it would be best if I didn't pry in a way that didn't offend in the least.

"Because of our background," she continued, "I was the only one who in a position to take care of her. She relies on me too much, and that's the problem. My duties are at the point where I can no longer look after her in the same capacity as I used to. Mikuru knows this, but…" she said, embarrassed, "she's not very self-aware."

I smiled at that, Mikuru did have a naivety to her. But something didn't feel right. "So, are you're saying that you don't want Mikuru relying on you all the time?"

Michiru put a hand on her wrist and rubbed softly. "I was hoping- If it's not too much trouble- and I know that I have no right to ask you this favour- but could you be there for her? It's…I can't be a major presence in her life. No matter how much I may want to."

"She can't really be giving you enough trouble to warrant coming to me with this, can she?" I asked. "She seems to care about you a lot if she shares all this stuff with you. I don't think that anyone would do that for someone they didn't deeply care for. You should think it over a little more before doing something rash."

The skin around her wrist was reddened slightly where she applied more pressure. "…it's complicated, I really can't be the one there for her."

I frowned. The way she was talking, it was as if she wanted me to adopt Mikuru. "Look, I know you're busy with whatever secret stuff you have, but Mikuru's been nothing but a blessing since she's come into my life. Don't deny yourself that."

Michiru looked at me, eyes with, but then lowered he head. "Please," she said. "I humbly beg for your cooperation."

It wasn't my place to pry, and it seemed like Michiru wasn't going to relent. "Look, if you're asking me to take care of her, then you didn't have to go through all this trouble. I intend to be there when she needs me no matter what." Sighing, I took a few bills out of my pocket and left it on the table before moving to leave. "But I still think you're making a mistake. Maybe it doesn't mean much coming from a single father, but family is the most important thing in the world. If you distance yourself from her, you will break her heart. She doesn't deserve that."

"I can't. I'm sorry for imposing. Please understand," she said, her voice tightening, and her shoulders lowered. Maybe I was being too hard on her. I knew nothing of her work. What she wasn't just making excuses? Then I was simply causing unnecessary misery. No, there was always a way. She could quit her job. She was still young and could start fresh. I'd do everything in my power to help her if she asked. But for that to happen, she'd have to decide for herself. Otherwise, she may just end up hating me, or worse, hating Mikuru for forcing her into a corner.

"No," I said. "No I won't, and I hope to god I never will."

She glanced up at me before looking back down to the table. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

I kept my mouth shut, and walked towards the bar to pay my bill and buy a strawberry tart. After what I just learned, Mikuru definitely deserved a little more happiness in her day. I went out the door. I saw her bowing to me out the corner of my eye.

Maybe I had been too quick to judge, but I couldn't deny what I felt was right.

123123

Early Saturday morning, I went to the office to help out Yamazaki with odds and ends. Not pulling my weight just because I was on paid leave didn't sit right. I had hit a wall in the design anyways. The original draft's compartments just refused to reshape anything that remotely resembled a home.

Feeling satisfied after a good half-day's work, I got off the train and walked home a little faster than normal. Mikuru hadn't come yesterday, and after her sister's visit, I needed to see her.

I could talk to her about Michiru, to find out what was going on, but I don't think I'd get anywhere. Mikuru had never once told me about her family no matter how much I tried to get her to open up. I also knew nothing of her situation outside the vague circumstances. She wasn't comfortable around me yet, and any attempt to pry could end badly. I sighed, why do the girls in my life always require delicacy I didn't have?

Reaching the apartment, I unlocked the door and turned the knob. Hearing pots bubbling and pans sizzling, I opened the door just a crack to peek inside. As expected, Mikuru was in the kitchen cooking lunch. She had taken to having a hot meal ready for me on Saturday afternoons, which was great. Haruhi hardly ever stayed at home during the weekends, and her interest in cooking was more or less the same as mine, little to none. We'd have better food whenever Haruhi got her hands on a cooking manga or anime. It was a quirk of hers that I learned to take advantage of.

I wedged my fingers under the bottom edge of the door and pushed it open so I could quietly get inside. I'd never been able to watch her in the act of cooking. Mikuru was very shy about it for some reason, fidgeting this way and that while making cute nonsensical sounds until I left her alone.

I slid off my shoes, carrying them in my hands while tiptoeing in. This was a rare opportunity to observe Mikuru in her natural state.

The first thing I noticed was that Mikuru was very graceful in the kitchen. She moved at a relaxed pace, cutting vegetables and stirring. It was completely different from martial arts cuisine where the fire of the chef's soul seemed to do as much of the cooking as the stove. The second thing I noticed was that my kitchen looked a little like a lab. Mikuru had thermometers of every kind all over the place, from the oil filled pot, to the thermometer resting on the counter by the pan. There was even a plastic scale that, if I wasn't mistaken, was used to measure ingredients by the gram. There was also a book propped up on near the sink that was highlighted and marked with plastic tabs of every color.

And then there were the cooking timers. Four of them.

Within the span of fifteen minutes, Mikuru would get to each timer just before they rang, reset them or turn them off, and then look back at the cookbook. She treated the ingredients the same way, levelling salt on a measuring spoon before leaning towards the cookbook.

Usually, you'd check the recipe first before measuring and setting the time.

In battle, you could tell a lot about opponents by the way they moved. She was graceful in the kitchen, and yet, for all that grace, I noticed something very wrong. Every action lacked a natural follow-through, despite how obvious it was that she had the cook times and recipe down. It was like watching a martial artist who didn't have faith in her own art. For a martial artist, to lose faith in one's art is to lose faith in oneself: every combination, every move, every principle would be ineffective. The battle was lost before it had even begun.

Mikuru finished plating. Breathing a gentle "hoo," Mikuru wiped the sweat off her brow. Now seemed like a good time to let her know I was there.

"Lunch ready?" I asked.

"Heeeee!," Mikuru jumped, "R-ranma! How long were you there?" Her hands clasped at her breast as though she were keeping her heart from popping out.

Oh, crap. "Uh," I said, scratching my stomach, "since you finished making the pork stuffed croquets."

Mikuru's face turned red. "Uuuuuh," her lips lengthened into a pout. I sweated, okay, she was mad. I laughed nervously. "I'm starved. Let's eat before it gets cold."

"Ah," Mikuru squeaked. "Please take a seat." She pulled out a chair for me before trotting around the table to get the rest of the dishes.

I breathed a mental sigh. Mikuru didn't seem too upset. The scent of lunch wafted to my nose, causing my stomach to demand that I forget the trivialities. It would have sucked if Mikuru had decided that I didn't deserve any food for the stunt I pulled. Well, nothing like a good meal to relieve tensions.

123123

Lunch was very good. Mikuru had prepared a "flower topped hamburger with gravy" with a side of potato croquets and a simple salad of lettuce, tomatoes, and stringed carrots. The flower part was made by frying an egg sunny-side-up in the shape of a flower.

I snapped a croquette between my chopsticks and bit through the crunchy breaded crust into the moist, savoury insides, which I discovered were flavoured with mushrooms. Closing my eyes, I chewed slowly and happily before swallowing. Eating with Mikuru had developed into a unique pleasure for me. I ate a lot slower than usual. At first, that was just a product of being with a stranger- Nabiki having drilled manners into me early on. But as we got to know each other better over the past month, Saturday afternoon became a little tradition between the two of us to enjoy food and make small talk.

I mentioned before that Haruhi did cook good food once in a while, but no matter what she was having, she would never slow down. As for me, I couldn't help inhaling food whenever I saw Haruhi doing the same. I tried to control it, but the training was ingrained by years of competition and eating to survive.

"These are great," I said just as Mikuru put a bite-sized piece of hamburger into her mouth. She nodded bashfully as if afraid to receive a complement. I frowned, remembering what I wanted to talk to her about.

"Mikuru."

The girl swallowed and then sipped some tea, probably to collect her thoughts. She was a strange girl in some ways, like how she got startled by the smallest things, and was always very deliberate when she spoke. I could almost see the gears turning in her head when she answered, "Yes?"

"When you cook, is it always like what I saw today?" I asked.

She cast her gaze downwards, embarrassed. "I'm not very good. That's why peeking is prohibited."

The slight admonishment in her tone wouldn't have registered had it been anyone else, but Mikuru was different. It implied that I had violated her trust, and trust was something Mikuru seemed to hold in high regard. For a shy girl like her, I guess it was very difficult to feel secure around others...ah damn.

"Sorry," I said quickly, "I shouldn't have, but I was curious and—"

"It's okay…" she stepped in, "I'm the one who's imposing, and you've been very kind."

I smiled. Beneath all her nervous exterior was a very thoughtful girl who put everyone else before herself. I guess that was also why she got along with Haruhi.

"No," I insisted. "It was wrong of me not to let you know I was there. I want you to be comfortable here. This should be a place where you're able to be yourself. I saw how you kept looking back at the recipe, you were afraid of messing it up, weren't you?"

"Ah, I wanted to make sure that I had it right…" she said in a small voice.

"Mikuru, you're really good at cooking, and I'm not just saying that to make you feel better. I used to hang around some pretty good chefs in my day," I said, patting my chest. "It's plain to see that you put a lot of effort into improving."

"Thank you," she said, a small smile on her face. "But I don't know any other way to cook. I've always done it this way."

Mikuru knew her way around the kitchen, her confidence was the only thing missing. If only there was some way to….

"Got it!" I said, startling Mikuru. "You've been relying too much on the recipe book and your tools. Normally, I wouldn't recommend putting all your thermometers and timers and recipe's aside, but I think that you really can do it all on your own without any help."

"huu... are you sure this is a good idea?" Mikuru asked.

"Relax, even if you mess up, I can eat almost anything. Trust me, there's nothing you could possibly cook that I wouldn't be able to stomach."

Mikuru got up and began clearing the plates. She was buying herself time to think of an appropriate response, but I was going to beat her to the punch. "So you don't get tempted, why don't we pack up all the extra stuff and bring them back to your place?"

"Eeeh?" Mikuru turned towards me. She fidgeted. "But…"

"Oh don't be like that," I said, putting two hands on her shoulders and walking her towards the sink. Let's wash up, and we can sort all these as we go." I insisted, ignoring Mikuru's little protests. It was a brilliant move if I do say so myself. Now I could encourage her to be more herself, even if it was just in cooking, and I could see where she lived.

123123

Mikuru put up a bit more of a fight though I got what I wanted in the end. I borrowed a page from Haruhi's book and blindly followed through with whatever it was that I decided. Turns out, Mikuru lived in Amagasaki, which was a combined trip of an hour from the Nishinomiya station.

We were walking pretty slowly from the station. Mikuru was beside me, feeding directions as we went. I was carrying all the extra things she had brought to my house in a backpack, which contained timers, measures, scales, thermometers—it was a lot of stuff, and here I thought my kitchen was pretty complete.

"We're almost there," Mikuru said as we passed under the arch marking the entrance to a shopping arcade. The inside wasn't all that special, but it did have a decent atmosphere. The shops and stands were all relatively new looking, and the streets were clear of mud and garbage.

"Mikuru!" A seafood truck slowed down next to us. The driver was young- in his twenties would be my guess. He had spiky hair and his eyes looked almost like they were perpetually closed.

"Oh, hi Mr. Kawamoto." Mikuru lowered her head in greeting.

"Aahaha, you don't have to be so stiff Mikuru. Call me Hirota like always. You back from the Suzumiyas?" he said, his voice loud enough so that you could hear him clearly over the rumble of the engine.

"Umm-" Mikuru tried to gain his attention.

"Aww man, you shouldn't put yourself out for them so much. This Mr. Suzumiya is such a lucky bastard. Don't let him take advantage of you."

"Mr. Kawamoto…."

"Especially with a girl your age and delicate constitution, you should take care of yourself more— or get someone dependable to take care of you, Ahahaha," the little punk was rubbing his own shoulder like he was nominating himself for the job.

"Hirota!"

"Wha- you were saying something Mikuru?" He leaned out his window.

Mikuru presented me, her palms up like a TV showroom girl showing off merchandise. "Mr. Suzumiya."

"Sorry about being a lucky bastard," I said while straining a smile.

The truck driver goggled. "Didn't noticed you there, ahahahaha!" Stupid annoying laugh. Scratching his head, he said, "Hello, nice to meet you, sir. I better get going, this seafood won't deliver itself!"

"Please, don't let us keep you," I said, putting a hand against the side of the truck.

"Okay," the idiot said, ducking back into the driver's seat. "See you later Mi—AAAH!" The truck suddenly lurched forward, causing him to stick his head out the window and look at his rear wheel. Seeing nothing wrong, he drove off as I good naturedly waved him goodbye.

The rest of the way to her place was very pleasant. Shops owners and various residences greeted Mikuru as we passed. They were always very cheerful with the 'Hi Mikuru', 'Hey, little miss,' 'Good afternoon, Ms. Asahina.'

"You're very popular around here," I said.

Mikuru blushed. "They're nice people."

"No doubt."

123123

"Were here," Mikuru said.

We had stopped in front of the stationary shop. "Suzuki Stationary," the sign read. She lived here? The shop had a second floor, which had caged windows. It had probably been used as storage area at some point, and then renovated to become living quarters.

The shop sold mostly school supplies, nothing special. What did stand out were the various posters and sign stands on academic events. There was even a point system discount for children who had good grades. At the back of the store were collapsible chairs and tables that could be laid out for study sessions and the like.

"Hello Mikuru," The old man behind the cash register greeted.

"I'm back," Mikuru returned. Noticing the old man was looking straight at me, she introduced us. "This is Mr. Suzumiya, the father of my friend, Haruhi. Mr. Suzumiya, this is Mr. Suzuki, the owner of this stationary store and my landlord."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Suzumiya."

"likewise," I said while Mr. Suzuki stared with his fishlike eyes. I didn't know why he was studying me so intently, but I figured that I had nothing to worry about since he wasn't giving off any ill intent. That was more or less the standard notice for trouble whenever I was near anyone cute- regardless of age difference.

"If you'll excuse us," Mikuru bowed to Mr. Suzuki before turning to me. "This way," she said, guiding me by the sleeve towards the staircase to the side of the store.

123123

Mikuru slid the paper door closed behind me. "Wait here, okay," she said, taking the backpack from me and scurrying towards a small cupboard and sink at the far end of the room.

The store downstairs was pretty large, around the area of eight tatami, but Mikuru's living area was around less than half of that. The other room we passed in the hall must have still been used as storage. On its own, the place wasn't all that bad: a window with a view to the shop on the other side of the street for ventilation, a closet for her futon and miscellaneous items, and the door to what I guessed was a bathroom.

What did stand out though was the total lack of furniture—scratch that—proper furniture. There were a few tables made out of boxes, which I guess Mikuru had gotten from the man downstairs, and even a wooden orange crate. All of them were decorated with cloth and knitted covers to make them prettier, though there was no hiding what they really were.

I also noticed was that there were clocks almost everywhere: small ones on the makeshift tables and wide-faced ones on the walls. They were all set to exactly the same time. Maybe she collected them as a hobby?

On the far wall, there was a frameless corkboard, probably taken from a large sheet. Tacked onto the board were a bunch of photographs. A lot of them were had Haruhi and Mikuru looking panicked in one way or another, there were also other students in the background, none of whom I recognized... though that boy looking irritated near Haruhi seemed familiar.

On the bottom edge of the board were ones with Mikuru alone. She stood in the exact same pose despite the changing locations, her back straight with hands behind. She looked a little sad in all those pictures. There wasn't a single trace of her family on the corkboard -not even of her with Michiru- no parents, no grade school pictures, nothing remotely hinting at where she was from or how she had grown.

Mikuru came back, returning an empty backpack and bringing be out from my thoughts. "Thank you for helping me carry all this back," she paused, "would you mind letting me show my gratitude by staying for tea?"

Why was she being so formal? I smiled. Mikuru did tend to get serious about the strangest things like Haruhi's sewing machine, and her maid duties.

I should probably be thanking the gods that she didn't take her temporary wife duties too seriously.

"Ummm…" she fidgeted.

"Yeah?" I asked, my imagination mercifully prevented from going dark and forbidden directions.

"We will have to downstairs. I'm not allowed to have a stove here because it's a fire hazard, but Mr. Suzuki lets me use the one he has downstairs."

123123

You couldn't see the night sky from inside the shopping arcade. The glass canopy that shielded the streets from the elements was heavily opaque. I leaned on the outside wall of the stationary shop. Mikuru had gone to the back where there was apparently a small kitchenette.

The neighbouring shop had opened a radio. Slightly crackled sound streamed through the air, clear enough to hear, "In other news, Anatidaeus Biomechatronics, or ABM, has pledged to provide fifty thousand American dollars' worth of reliable, cost effective prosthetics to destitute handicapped in China. Li Mu Tzu, the business's founder and president said that he undertook the project to give back to the country of his origins. He also hopes that others in his community will follow his example."

Sensing a presence come closer, I turned my attention away from the news report. It was the shop owner. "Oh, hey," I said. "Mr. Suzuki, was it?"

He his eyes rested on me, though it wasn't the heavy weighing that I had experienced the first time we met. "That is correct." He smiled gently. "You're the infamous Ranma Suzumiya."

"Um." I scratched my cheek with a finger. "I wasn't aware I had a reputation."

He chuckled. "I suppose you don't, in a manner of speaking." He approached the patch of wall next to me. "Do you mind?" he asked.

"Not at all."

He breathed a sigh of relief upon leaning. His back must have been strained from tending the shop. After settling in, he aimed his sights at the glass canopy, tenderness settling over his features. "You see," he began, "Mikuru's not very close to anyone here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Seems like everyone here likes her."

He laughed. "She is without a doubt the darling of the arcade, but that's not what I meant. She's held everyone at a distance- always doing everything on her own, and always politely refusing any kindness we offer." He looked me in the eyes. "You, on the other hand, are different."

"Me? Different?" I said. "I'm pretty sure Mikuru treats me the same way she treats the rest of you. You seem to have known her for a lot longer than I have. I'm basically a stranger. What about friends and family?"

He shook his head. "The most she's ever had over were a pair of visitors. She introduced them as her classmates. One was a girl with short hair, and the other a handsome boy. She didn't seem particularly happy around either of them."

So Michiru probably lived somewhere else and had never dropped by. That didn't sit well with me, but I expected as much.

"Mikuru's such a good girl," Mr. Suzuki said. "That's why the entire arcade fell in love with her. A young lady doing her best, we all couldn't help cheering for her from behind the scenes."

"Uh, right," I said, "She does tend to have that effect on people, but what does that have to do with me being different?"

"One day, she comes back looking very happy. It was different from that mask of cheerfulness she always puts on to keep everyone from worrying." He grinned, "Mikuru isn't very good at hiding her feelings."

"I guess," I said, scratching my chin. Mikuru did have a way of changing the room she was in depending on her mood.

"You could imagine we were extremely curious. We managed to cajoled some information out of her, and found out that she was being allowed to stay at a friend's home. We also got a name." His fishlike eyes turned in my direction. "Yours."

"Yeah, right," I said. Mr. Suzuki was grasping at straws, but I couldn't keep the smile from my lips.

"I guess it does seem like a stretch, but it's the truth. My wife and I, we've been married a good 45 years. Our children have long left the nest, and that's part of the reason why I care about all the children who visit my store. When Mikuru came, she was more than a new tenant, and I hope you treat her as more than just your daughter's friend."

"Sorry for the wait." Mikuru entered carrying a tray. She served Mr. Suzuki and me before settling down with a cup of her own. We both thanked her, and made small talk over perfectly brewed tea.

I finished the last of my tea. "It's getting late. Haruhi might be back soon."

"Ah," hurriedly put down her cup to stand with me. "Let me walk you to the station…" she looked towards Mr. Suzuki.

Mr. Susuki smiled. "No need to be so strict with your work hours. Go, we don't have many guests this time of the evening anyhow."

I guess he wanted to give the two of us a chance to talk, but now that we were alone, I couldn't think of what to say. Suzuki had entrusted me with Mikuru's well-being. To be her support the same way Michiru had. What was so special about me that two people who knew the same person would come to the exact same conclusion?

Bah, no use thinking too hard about it.

"Nice night," I said, hoping to break the ice.

"Yes, it is," she said, absently.

"I had a nice little chat with Mr. Suzuki, seems like you get a lot of moral support from the folks around here."

"They're just nice people," she said. "Mr. Suzuki lets me work off my rent."

She was in a difficult situation, and I could see her need to keep herself from getting too close to others. She couldn't live alone though. That's probably what Mr. Suzuki thought as well. It was important that she knows that she always has some place to go whenever she felt cornered.

"You don't have to carry it all on your own."

Mikuru slowed to a stop.

"Look, I'd be an idiot if I didn't notice that you're knee deep in something complicated. I have no intention of prying. What you want or can tell me is your business. But…" I looked into her eyes. "I want you to know that, even though we've only known each other for a little while, I consider you family, and I'm willing to bet Haruhi does too."

Tears began trickling down Mikuru's cheeks. "This…this is too much of an honour," she said, covering her mouth to keep the sobs at bay. "I don't deserve-"

I pulled her into a hug, mirroring what Kyoko had done for me. Mikuru wasn't the only one with secrets, and I knew that sometimes the best thing in the world is for someone to just accept that about you. "Family isn't about deserving. Family just is, and you're a part of mine whether you want to be or not."

She buried her face into my shoulder. "There's so much I want to tell you, but I can't. I'm sorry for trying to hit you with that hammer, there are just some events that needed to happen, and I thought I was doing the right thing."

Hammer? A memory of Mikuru getting a bump on her forehead popped into my mind. I had totally forgotten about that. She said it was to help. What would hitting me with a hammer help with?

The only other reason I could guess why anyone would put Mikuru up to such a silly thing would be to mess with her and me. The mastermind of this was going to get a beating if I ever caught them.

"Shhhh," I whispered, stroking her hair. "When you have nowhere else to go, when you can find no one else to turn to, I'll be there."

And as I held Mikuru in my arms, I couldn't help feeling that it was a promise I'd have to keep soon enough.

I just hoped this peace would last a little longer.

Author's notes:

In case anyone else besides Annapolis is wondering: Yes, the names Kasumi, Akane, and Sakura are taken from Ruroni Kenshin canon.

I'd like to thank Fallacy for being my plot and editor monkey, and Yasuhei and Mondu for beta reading, Beige for pointing out an inaccuracy in the details of Kenshin canon, and PCHeintz72 for post retcon spelling and grammar corrections.

Also some Fanfiction-dot-net and TFF reviewers who deserve special mention since I used their suggestions directly for this and previous chapters: CrowKenobi, for reminding me about Haruhi's hair; SakuraAyanami, for helping me realize I was having timeline difficulties; YMYRR for reminding me Ryouga exists Bakaneko, for spelling corrections; and Inverted Helix for spelling corrections.


	7. Chapter 5b

Disclaimer: Ranma and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi are not mine.

Friendly reminder: Knowing Ranma One-half is the only requirement for understanding this fic. I'll be giving all the necessary information about The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi as needed.

Demiglace Graffiti: Chapter 5b

By ToastedPine

Crumpling another draft, I rolled across the room on my chair. I sighed. The bedroom trashcan had overflowed again. There was little more than a week left, but I couldn't accept the completed draft that I did have. Higuma's design wasn't a home- it was an argument in the form of a building.

The bed stand clock glowed 5:30 in the dim morning light. I could probably get another four hours of work in before I had to get ready, but that wasn't going to be any help. I rubbed the side of my face and felt stubble.

My room had an adjoining bathroom. There were two cups on the sink, one blue, and the other yellow. I took the razor that was propped in the blue one and turned on the tap. While shaving I considered what I could do for a change of pace. I could watch TV. Then again, my eyes needed a break….

I shook my head. Who was I trying to fool? Only one thing could get me to unwind. I grabbed a pair of blue sweats from the closet, and headed out.

The cool and sweet scent of grass cleared my head a little. It was a good thing we had an apartment that had a little bit of nature around it. I needed some training tools to get started, and the convenience store two blocks away would have what I needed.

I glanced at the black taxi parked just down the street. It was the same black taxi that I noticed there a few times before.

Perception is a funny thing. Before Soun's death, I could detect killing intent, sense slight vibrations in the air, and find treasure written in a cryptic scroll, but I wouldn't be able to tell Akane's mood until she beaned me with a table. Necessity eventually changed how I needed to see the world so I could fit in. That didn't mean the part of me that was always looking out for potential sources of danger was gone entirely though.

At the convenience store, I bought a dozen eggs and a pack of bamboo skewers. The next thing I needed was somewhere to train. Unfortunately, there weren't as many open lots in Hyogo as in Nerima. The roof of our apartment complex wasn't ideal, but it did the job. I'd also have a hose to wash the egg away if things didn't work the way I planned.

If I had a vice, it wasn't smoking, drinking, or even eating- it was the art. Anything Goes had been a part of my life for so long that it training brought me the comfort of something familiar. Usually, twice a week was enough to steady myself, but I was on my fifth training session that week. Business with Higuma aside, my day with Haruhi was going to start in in a few hours. Spending time with my daughter was good. It wasn't strange for a father to take his daughter out.

Then why was I so nervous?

I concentrated on doing a few light stretches before running through a basic 108 step kata. My favourite starter was the one I helped Akane develop for intermediate students of the new Tendo School of Anything Goes. The movements were natural, flowing well from one stance to another. Akane's brawling style was long gone, replaced by controlled elegance.

Part of me was thrilled- Haruhi and I didn't spend nearly enough time together. On the other hand, the rift between us showed no signs of closing. The conversation we had about assassins last week was one example. Haruhi had her ideas and I had mine.

Today was supposed to be a day when we could have fun together. I didn't want to get into another fight. On the other hand, I couldn't afford to miss out on the chance to really talk to her. It was like being stuck in the same car with the fiancée brigade during a long road trip. Anyone with half a brain would know that a bomb was waiting to go off, but there was still that faint hope that the trip would go peacefully.

Worst case scenario, Haruhi would get mad enough to call off our day out.

I could just agree with her, but that wasn't a real option- not for something this important. I wanted Haruhi to have the advantage of knowing what I didn't at her age. This wasn't about turning her into another Nabiki or another me. Unfortunately, Haruhi hadn't just inherited my talent in the art, she also inherited my brashness.

Not long after her mother left, Haruhi had started pulling pranks at school. The incident involving a giant drawing in the school yard was only the most infamous example, but there were more... a lot more. She never got in any seriously trouble because she was gifted and her pranks were harmless.

The problem was that Haruhi's actions were hard to understand. If she were acting out to get attention because Nabiki left, Haruhi would have done something more direct.

No, what drove Haruhi was something more. She had an almost compulsive drive to go searching for adventure and strangeness. The scary part is that I don't know what she'd do after. Would she continue on searching until she gets in way over her head? She didn't have the art to protect her the way it did me. To gain that protection, she would have had to pay the price I paid—a childhood without a home. Maybe I was a bad father for not having the stomach to take her from her mother's arms. In hindsight, being a martial artist may have suited her far more than being normal girl.

More than just a way to defend myself from physical attack, Pop's training taught a set of principles that went along with our type of martial arts. When martial artists face each other, they're putting everything they have on the line with an understanding that they risk losing everything. Ukyo's dad saw the power of Anything Goes, and sought to bring it into his family through his daughter. A contest was happening between him and Pop while I fought Ukyo daily over free okonomiyaki. If Ukyo's father was able to make sure we honoured the marriage agreement, then Pop's pledge to unite the schools with Soun would have been default. The flipside was that since Pop was able to get away without Ukyo tagging along, he earned a hefty payout while keeping his plans for the future intact.

Of course, because we left without her, Ukyo lost years of her life seeking restitution for her honor. As sick and alien as it sounds, the mentality of a martial artist makes that okay. Since Ukyo had the right to kill me and Pop, we didn't have to feel bad about skipping out on the deal. This was part of the principles that Haruhi would have to understand if she were to become a martial artist. Practicing the common decency of normal people in those situations would be a quick way to insanity.

Requirements aside, what if martial arts didn't have the type of excitement Haruhi was looking for? Following the path of the true martial artist wasn't something that you could drop at your convenience.

If she wanted to start now, she'd have to give up all her friends, any experiences she'd have going to university with those her age, coming home with the guarantee of a hot meal and a warm bed, and who knows what else. If, in the end, she decided that the life of a martial artist was not for her, she could leave it behind, but the scars gained from her choice would remain.

There was the possibility that what Haruhi needed was not within my power to provide. If not a great martial artist or a successful career woman, neither I nor Nabiki could guide her. This was even more worrying because Haruhi didn't seem to think that people who had boring lives mattered. Even Nabiki, with her cutthroat approach to competition, had limits.

The danger lay in how Haruhi was forcing herself to be blind to boring people. Haruhi was raised to be a normal girl, but she's adopted a mentality similar to that of a martial artist. If Haruhi was ever forced to face the consequences of what happened to those boring people as a result of her actions, her heart may not be able to withstand it. I needed to make her understand this, but I wasn't sure how to say it in a way that would get through to her.

Speaking to Haruhi through Aunt Ranko was one possibility. With Ranko, the divide between father and daughter didn't exist. Haruhi would listen without any of the usual resistance, but was I really so weak that I could only talk to her honestly by hiding behind a mask?

I landed softly in the kata's closing stance and breathed out slowly- time to try that new technique.

Grabbing the convenience store bag, I picked three eggs and the pack of bamboo skewers out of it. A grungy old chair served as a platform.

Positioning the first egg on the chair, I wrapped ki around the egg before letting go slowly. The egg wobbled a bit, but remained upright. I frowned at how unstable the egg seemed on its perch before repeating a similar process with slight differences another two times.

I stood back with my arms crossed and looked dubiously at the three eggs. It didn't look like I'd complete the technique today either. With a swift flick, a bamboo skewer sped towards the first egg on the right, which burst in a shower of shell and yolk.

"Crap." I took aim at the second egg and threw the skewer at the same speed. The second egg didn't break on impact. Instead it toppled off the chair and broke on the floor.

The third egg acted much the same as the first. I scratched my chin and went to fetch the other eggs to try again.

In the end, I had a dozen egg's worth of goo on the floor to hose off. Completing the technique seemed like it would take a lot more work than I first guessed.

After hosing off what was left of a dozen eggs, I went back to the apartment. Grabbing a towel from the linen closet, I entered the larger bath at the end of the hall. A glance at the clock told me that it was ten-to-seven, which was enough time for a leisurely soak before Haruhi woke.

I splashed myself with cold water. Since I didn't change bodies much anymore, the shift in balance when I turned into a girl was more noticeable. I walked towards the mirror that was mounted on the bathroom door and touched my reflection. Ranko had aged to reflect my male side, she looked be in her early 30's now, taller than the pint-sized redhead from Nerima. Gone was the cute, childlike face, replaced by a more defined womanly face with sharper eyes. I was disappointed and a bit relieved that her chest hadn't grown much more. This was Ranko. This was the me who wasn't me, and the me who was what I wanted, but not what I needed.

Even after all these years I still couldn't completely decide how I felt about Ranko. The irony was that Pop made fun of my girl side without ever realizing how much of an advantage it was to our art.

I'd spent countless hours imagining what could be done with Ranko's unlimited potential. Her ability to do anything she wanted stemmed from the fact that she wasn't a real person. She had no true name, family, or home. She could just disappear when things got to hot. Ranko could also make connections with other people easily, transforming herself into anyone convenient. She wasn't a real person so promises or duty were merely convenient tools.

She could promise the world to anyone and keep that promise for only as long as it suited her. In Ranko, Haruhi saw excitement because there were no limits. Ranko's lack of direct connection to our family also made her the ideal confidant. As far as Haruhi was concerned, Ranko would listen and could never tell a soul, and because Ranko seemed so impartial, Haruhi would listen to her advice.

But what good would that be? I'd have to hide as Ranko, and she'd grow up thinking that her father had pushed her off on stranger. If Ranko were real, she might have been a blessing- she could provide the friendly guidance Haruhi needed while I stuck to being her father. Unfortunately, life wasn't so convenient. The hard truth was that I betrayed Haruhi's trust every time I spoke to her as Ranko.

Assuming I could keep up the act. Nabiki read me like a book, and Haruhi was almost as sharp. The one thing I had going for me was that I had kept Ranko from appearing much around Haruhi. Every time Ranko showed up, I risked Haruhi telling me something I hadn't earned as her father. I doubt I'd ever be forgiven if my curse was revealed in that case. Soun may have been less than a model father to his daughters, but at least he was strong enough to not pretend with them. He could have spent his days in a drunken haze, but he chose to live with his flaws.

Going back to the tap, I quickly rinsed off before soaking.

I could step out right now as Ranko, enter Haruhi's room, dump hot water on over my head. It'd definitely be a load off my shoulders. Then again, I knew how it would play out. With something as flashy as the curse in front of her, Haruhi would chase the dream without hesitation, and she was nowhere near ready for that.

No, Ranko was definitely not the answer, and yet….

I drew myself out of the bath but didn't towel off. I sat beneath the showerhead. When the cold hit my skin, I shuddered, though it had nothing to do with the water's temperature. No matter how good my intentions, I still couldn't deny how much giving in called to me. Ranko got along with Haruhi so well without even trying. I envied Ranko and wanted what she had more than anything.

One day, maybe Haruhi would finally be ready to learn of my past, and I would no longer be tempted to treat the curse as a crutch. On the other hand, I also had to face the possibility that she may never be ready, and I might never have the relationship with her that I've always wanted.

That possibility scared me worse than anything, but I had to be prepared- for Haruhi's sake.

123123

I entered that kitchen, the sounds of breakfast sizzling like a morning call. Haruhi was at the stove, busily working the pan.

"Morning," I greeted.

She turned to me. "Took you long enough. What were you doing in there?"

"Umm, taking a bath?" I ventured.

She wiped off her hands on the yellow apron she was wearing. "Breakfast will be done when I get back. Go sit at the table."

Haruhi turned down the burner and dashed to the bathroom.

There were two bathrooms in our apartment: a big one down the hall, and another smaller one without a tub connected to the master bedroom. Haruhi kept her toothbrush the main washroom. It would have made more sense for her to use the one in the master bedroom, which was more available in the morning because it didn't have a shower, but she never did.

She had her excuse; a girl her age should have some privacy. It was hard to believe something like that when she was perfectly happy changing clothes in front of the TV.

Left unsaid was the real reason why she avoided using that bathroom. In many ways, I still shared that bathroom with someone else. The pink cup sitting next to mine should have been put away ages ago.

The phone rang.

"Suzumiya residence," I answered. It was the mother of one of the neighbourhood boys that lived a little down the street from the apartment complex. I didn't know her very well, but she had expressed interest in Haruhi's scholastic skills—Nabiki wasn't above bragging about her daughter's achievements. "A tutor? You want Haruhi to do it? Good pay? Oh...well-"

Hearing my conversation, Haruhi thundered out of the washroom. She was frothing at the mouth and hastily making warding gestures. I sweated. Guess she wasn't very interested.

"She's still asleep. Could you leave your number?" I quickly scrawled the numbers down on a pad. "Alright, thanks."

I put down the phone, and Haruhi went to rinse the foam off.

Haruhi laid breakfast out. The plates were piled high with German sausages and eggs. We didn't have any bread so a dozen packaged rice balls would do. Our pantry was empty most of the time so this breakfast was pretty decent relatively speaking.

"So," I began casually, "are you going to take the job?" The pay was very generous. Why would Haruhi turn down the offer? If I were as smart at her age, I would have accepted in a heartbeat.

"I don't have time to waste repeating what should have been learned in class! If the kid has problems in school, then he should fix them himself."

I rubbed my forehead. "Not everyone's as smart as you. Besides, it's a good chance to help others."

'Are you kidding?' communicated Haruhi's deadpan stare. "Good for what? This isn't a fairy tale, this is the real world! In today's society, it's tit-for-tat, dog-eat-dog, I don't scratch your back until you scratch mine! I don't need the money anyway- I have better ways to make capital!"

There's more to life than looking out for number one.

"Fine," I said, "tell her that you aren't interested."

Haruhi grimaced, but nodded. At least she had some sense of responsibility. We started eating, both of us chewing sedately. For inheritors of the Saotome style eating arts, it was disgraceful.

"So…what are we going to do today?" I asked, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

Haruhi raised her head. "You didn't plan anything?"

"You're the one who said that we should go out. I thought you had a place to go."

Haruhi tisked, "That's very irresponsible of you. It's a good thing I do have something planned!"

"Hey you, who do you think you're messing with?" I said in my best tough guy voice. "Don't tell me I need to have something planned if we're going to end up doing what you want, little girl!"

Haruhi made a complicated expression, and then started laughing. "What was that, Old Man? That doesn't suit you at all!"

I sweated. Was I really that out of practice? Haruhi laughed some more. Finally, a good half-minute later, she sat up, wiping tears out of her eyes.

"I can't believe you did that."

"I can be pretty scary when I need to be," I insisted. There was a time when the petty thugs of Nerima ran at the mention of the name Ranma Saotome.

Haruhi stifled another bout of laughter. "You? Mr. All-Around-Sportsman and Nice Guy?"

Suddenly, her mood changed. Turning her head to the side, she said, "I was excited enough to make plans... I thought you would be too. "

"Oh," I said, inexplicably feeling like a heel. "Could you tell me what you want next time?"

Haruhi frowned slightly. "It wouldn't be the same." She sighed. "Since you're my father, I'll give you special service this once!"

"I am eternally grateful, my generous daughter."

"You better be!" She tore a large chunk off her breakfast sausage, and then launched from her chair towards the shelf in the living room.

Not for the first time, I wondered when we had gotten so many books. Squinting a little, I read the titles. Most were reference books from algebra to zoology. There was even a copy of the Art of War and a few novels by Japanese authors whose names sounded old and important. Haruhi buying all these books on her own was strange. I've never seen her crack open so much as a textbook. My assumption was that she finished all her studying and homework at school. It would make sense considering I've never been called to school for academic issues.

Her fingers slid across the spines until she found a map book. She hopped back into her chair, opened the book to a map marked with a large black star, and slammed her finger on it.

"We are going here!" she announced.

I read the streets around her finger. "A residential neighborhood?" I scratched my head. "Ah, we're going to visit one of your friends aren't we? You should have told me earlier so I could prepare a gift."

"Hah!" she laughed sharply. "On a day like this, I, the great Haruhi, would not stoop so low."

"Oh?" I smirked, folding my arms. "Why don't you tell me what we are going there for, my super great daughter?"

Haruhi nodded, completely missing the sarcasm. "There's more to this neighbourhood than meets the eye, inside it is a shopping district!"

"That's it?" I asked. "You built all that up for a shopping district?"

Haruhi sighed. "You just don't see it do you?" She shoved the map in my face. "Look at it. Do you see a shopping district anywhere here? No!"

"The black marker you used is so thick it covers everything…."

"It's a MYSTERIOUS shopping district," she insisted. "You'll see. There's no other place like it!"

123123

Haruhi and I boarded the train, just missing getting soaked by large heavy rain. I fingered my collar.

Nabiki often joked that the Jusenkyo curse had two components instead of one: the first was the cursed body, and the second was that the victims got wet in the most unlikely ways. It was Pop who first pointed it out. When I was trying to introduce myself to mom, water pipes kept blowing and buckets of water kept falling from the sky. I never did find the cause. The water could have been anything from a run of bad luck to an angry water deity. Nabiki called it 'water magnetism', and after we started living together, she realised that it had to be dealt with.

Planning and location was a big factor in our success. Away from the insanity of Nerima, I could finally carry hot-water bottles without having them broken. On good months, I could afford to have some water-proof soap imported because no one would steal them. I also didn't have to look out for random attacks and flying glomps anymore, which meant I could divert attention to the more obvious things like looking where I was going. Walking also helped- old ladies were less likely to splash someone who didn't keep jumping out from out of nowhere.

At some point, between the endless hours of work and routine, water stopped being the problem that it once was. Nabiki had been the first to notice. She joked that maybe I had finally done something right by fulfilling an unwritten condition of the curse.

"Old man, you okay?" Haruhi's asked.

"Uh…yeah," I said. "We'll be in trouble if the rain doesn't die down soon."

Haruhi spared me one last glance before the train moved.

123123

The weather had improved, but not until Haruhi got a little damp from waiting beneath a rickety bus shelter. Thankfully, the bus had come soon after, and we reached our stop without something else going wrong.

"How in the world did you stay dry?" Haruhi asked, annoyed.

"Uh…" I hesitated before saying the first thing that came to mind.

"Haven't you ever heard that 'handsome men don't get hurt by a little water'?" I flashed my best lady-killer smile. Stupid brain….

Haruhi rolled her eyes. "I bet you found a dry spot in that shelter and didn't want to share."

I laughed. Yeah, let's go with that explanation. "You got me."

"Idiot," she said with a little smile.

One problem I had with cities, especially, large sprawling ones, was that they all looked the same. Street signs were very little help since it was hard to remember all the different names, and the houses and buildings just blended together after a while of wandering around. This was why roof-hopping had been so hard to give up- traveling on a higher level thinned down the possible number of landmarks. Running around an unfamiliar place like a rat in a maze didn't do wonders for anyone's patience.

"Do you know the way?" I asked.

Haruhi stood proudly, arms at her waist, surveying the neighbourhood like it was some new frontier, and said, "We'll find it, the Mysterious Shopping Arcade is waiting for me to find it. Full speed ahead!"

"Full spee-ack!" Haruhi latched onto my arm and took off. Her hold was impeccable, neither too high nor too low, pulling me just the right way so I had to go in whichever direction she wished. Truly, it was a model example of the Anything Goes art of opponent manipulation.

And then I felt it, the familiar chilling sensation. I looked back to the space between the buildings where we came from. Nothing looked different.

In front of us, a canal that cut right through the crowded neighborhood. The canal's span was around 20 meters and hemmed on both sides by perfectly flat cement borders. There was no fencing to keep people and animals from falling in. What was even stranger was that I couldn't see any water- only a dense, low-riding fog.

"Waoh…"

Haruhi pointed ahead to an antique but sturdy red-brick bridge arching over the canal. "We're here at the entrance to the Mysterious Shopping Arcade!"

Chilly feeling aside, everything else seemed okay. "Alright, Daughter. Lead the way."

123123

The other side of the bridge was a whole other world. Gone was the pallid concrete, the endless expanse of dull houses. In their place were vivid yellow-green leaves, ivory-like bark of aspen trees, and textured paths of laid stone. Haruhi let go of my hand and fell in step.

I recognize the undercurrent of Taishou Era architecture. Rows of two-story shops and houses were a curious mix of sharp western masonry and soft Japanese design. Stained-wood sculptures of Tanuki seemed to come alive at places where the eyes were drawn. Whether it was fishing in a pond or welcoming passerby into a restaurant, the racoons straddled the world between men and beasts.

The design made the arcade seem like it had grown from the land rather than built. I doubted there was any other shopping arcade in Japan that could boast such a union with nature. The pleasantly cool atmosphere was like a salve.

"One man built all of this," Haruhi said, gesturing all around her.

"Really?" I asked with a goofy grin. "Must have taken him hundreds of years to do it alone."

Haruhi narrowed her eyes, but continued, "A long time ago, this shopping district was in trouble. A large corporation had wanted to buy it up and turn it into an exclusive, gated community, but he loved this arcade so much that he worked with all his might to save it."

"Mhmm." I nodded as we passed below the vine-wrapped steel walkways that interconnected the upper floors of the taller buildings.

"Why aren't there any signs?" I asked, suddenly realizing that I'd be lost without Haruhi leading the way.

"You're thinking too small." Haruhi wagged a finger. "Anyone with common sense would be fine, just look around." Noting my blank stare, she let out a breath.

"We're near the entrance so things that people are usually looking for like convenience stores and food stalls are here. Electronics, toy stores, and other shops that people would need to later, are all further inside."

Sure enough, a second look around revealed piles of giant, bamboo steam-baskets bursting with fluffy buns, hooks of dripping, barbequed meat, and pots of bubbling stews. I must have gotten rusty over the years. One of the first things I had been taught as a wandering martial artist in an unfamiliar setting was to pinpoint all immediate sources of nourishment. If this were the old days, Pop would have been crying to the heavens, howling that I was a disgrace to the Saotome name for forgetting such a crucial lesson. I wondered for a moment if that change was for the better.

There were, however, simple pictographs to mark out general categories. The pictographs were carved on planks that were embedded randomly all over the arcade. Haruhi's reasoning made sense in a strange way, though I couldn't imagine how the tenants further in had agreed to such an arrangement. I also hadn't seen anyone since we entered. Even the shops that were open seemed to be empty of attendants.

"Why isn't anyone else here?" I asked. "It's Sunday, this place should be crawling with people."

"Regular visitors come evenings. That's what Grannie told me." Haruhi held her hands. "I like how there's no one else right now, it's like we have our own secret shopping arcade to ourselves." She smiled.

"Mom took you here?" Mom hadn't visited from Nerima in a while, and she always made sure to call first.

"Don't get confused so easily. Not Grandmother, GRANNIE."

"Okay, so who's this 'Grannie'?"

"She's great." Haruhi sucked in a cheek. "A little weird, but that's what makes her so interesting. I'll introduce you to her later."

"Interesting, huh?" I just hoped this old lady wasn't too interesting, for both her sake and mine.

"We're almost there." Haruhi said, diverting my attention from the rich scent of pork oden. "Just around the corner."

"Almost wh-?" My mouth stopped working when I saw the 'Tree' with a capital 'T'. At nearly four stories tall, it was large, but height had little to do with its grandeur. The entire structure was manmade, spreading up and out into an intricate network of branches. Stained glass leaves formed a canopy, which stretched past the clearing beneath and disappeared over the rooftops.

A slight breeze passed, and the glass leaves above dance together like a million interconnected wind chimes. Light caught the glass which was both filtered and reflected onto the Arcade floor, creating dancing motes and green-tinted shadow. The Tanuki were here as well, some of them with matching homes inside the hollows of the massive trunk. Running along and into the tree's base were a series of stairs made of roughly finished, aggregate stone. There were probably more shops inside.

I touched the trunk, which was polished smooth and looked as if the wood was sculpted from a single block instead of pieced together. "I don't see any seams. This shouldn't be possible for something so big." I touched the surface of the tree and closed my eyes, letting my other senses take over. Symmetry, form, beauty- every bend and surface was like the art given form, and then, I felt a pulse. The steady rise and fall, a flow deep within the tree that snapped my eyes wide open. The tree was alive?

Haruhi met me with a smug grin. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"Uh...yeah." I agreed weakly, still breathless. I had heard that some masters could almost sculpt the way a tree grew, but that was with bonsai. There might be plant life inside, interwoven seamlessly with the sculpted wood. Whoever came up with the construction technique was brilliant.

Haruhi put her hand against the tree. "His name was Kana Tatsura. He was a builder who didn't do anything interesting until he heard about this arcade being in trouble. This was his home, and he cared about this place so much that he gave his all to save it."

"Where is he now?" I asked, wanting to meet the man. My inner architect drooled at the possibilities if I could master Kana's art.

"He disappeared!" Haruhi said, her eyes starry. "No one knows what happened to him."

I sweated. I wanted to learn more about Kana, but it didn't look like I was going to get any clear answers from Haruhi.

"Is Grannie here?" I asked, trying a different approach. Maybe the old lady could clear things up for me.

"Yeah, her store's right over there." She pointed across the clearing.

123123

As I swept the curtain aside, the multicolored clutter came into view. Large rolls of brightly coloured cloth hung off metal pipes mounted on brackets, squared stacks of various materials were precariously piled, and cones of thread jutted out in every which way. The patterns available ranged from moons and unicorns to...the four horsemen? Not even the ceiling was safe from being overwhelmed, covered by a detailed painting of an upside-down labyrinth.

Haruhi was already deep inside the shop, squeezed between rotating shelves. "Grannie, I need a few more feet of this, okay?" Haruhi said, running length of red cloth in her hands.

At the corner, a spinning wheel whirled at an abnormally even pace, sending a low thrum through the clutter. The old woman attending the wheel turned her head, the combination of an intricately patterned veil and poor lighting obscuring her features. "Child," she said in a hollow, raspy voice.

That shade of red looked familiar. After thinking about it some more, I recognized the cloth as what Haruhi used to make armbands. They were made to copy what students put on during events to identify themselves as 'security' or 'student council'. Was Haruhi part of the school council? Haruhi wasn't type to take on extra responsibilities. I've never actually seen her fill one of those arm bands in either.

The only other possibility was the brigade Haruhi led- the one Mikuru was also part of. It was a bit of a mystery to me. Mikuru wouldn't tell me what they did, and she had been vague about whether or not it was even considered a school club. Maybe Haruhi was just making them and pretending to feel important while she played with her friends.

"Old man!" Haruhi gave me a frustrated look that asked what I was doing standing there.

"What are you doing standing there?" She stomped over, and pushed me towards the opposite end of the store. "You should be looking too."

Looking for what? I stared at her marching away. The only reason I'd buy anything from this store would be to make a disguise, and I hadn't needed one of those in ages. Not knowing what else to do, I went back to the old lady.

"Hello," I greeted.

The old lady raised her head, a yellowing bandage covering her eyes.

She was blind, I realized.

"Ranma Saotome," she said.

"Have we met?" I asked. What was it with people knowing me all of a sudden? First the old man at Mikuru's place and now this old lady.

"The tapestry of life has many threads. The thread of Ranma Saotome is among them," she said, her bandaged covered eyes trained firmly on me.

"What are you talking about?"

"His thread has caught and twisted. Corrections must be made or his thread might be lost to the tapestry. Only by learning from the thread of another shall he right the pattern."

The old lady was obviously going senile. I guess being crazy was a form of interesting. In any case, I decided to humour her. Clearing a space I sat down and said, "Okay Grannie, tell me what I have to hear."

She took a bundle of coarse fibre from a woven basket, giving no sign of hearing me. I was about to go check on Haruhi when I she began the story.

"There was once a builder who had come from the barren lands of his kin. He had settled on a plot of land not too close, but also not too far from the city of many lights. In this plot there was a tree young and strong, which lent shade during the summer and company in the winter. All was well- if only for a short while."

Was this about Kana? It fit generally with what Haruhi had told me earlier.

"In time, the not too close became a stone's throw, and the not too far became not far enough. The tree had since grown strong thick branches that children could climb, and a canopy that was a comfort from heat. The people were happy to lounge beneath its shade, and the tree was happier still that it had company. So pleased was the tree that offered good fortune to those who rested beneath its canopy. The people became aware of the source of their good fortune and deigned to visit more often."

"Then merchants arrived as merchants were wont to do where people are gathered aplenty. They set their wares beneath the tree, and their plates were filled with gold."

"All the while, the man became concerned. The tree had fallen ill, for too many had trampled its roots and sullied the ground on which it grew. Thinking to protect his old companion from being ravaged, he pleaded for aid, asking humbly for people to lend their strength. With their help, he built around the tree a shrine to shelter it from harm."

"Yet progress held nothing sacred. The merchants grew more prosperous, building a great district around the shrine. So tall were the thoughtlessly built bounds that everything was cast in a suffocating shadow."

"The tree, starved of light, weakened further. Those who would visit the tree came no more. Each day, the man sat and wept at the ruin that befell his companion."

"But there was still hope. The tree's spirit, so filled with pity for the man, could not let itself die. 'We can bring back that which was lost,' it whispered through the winds to his ear. 'You and I must form a pact. From your toil and my body, a new life for this dying land shall spring forth.'"

"At first, the man was afraid, but he soon recognized what spoke to him. Heartened, he heeded the tree's words and fell its body. From the tree sprang inexhaustible lumber. This was the miracle, and he worked tirelessly, sawing, carving, and laying, so that the bounty he had been given would not be for naught. He worked until his flesh was raw and his bones were ground to dust. The pact lent strength where there ought to be none, and he and the tree were born anew."

"Once more the district prospered and the people of the city streamed in as never before. Among the visitors was an orphan of war, who the man took as his own. He also met lonely woman who came to love him, and together they raised his son. With his new family, he grew prosperous. His name spread to the all corners, finding its way to the ears of his blood kin. Eager to partake of his wealth, his blood kin came and ingratiated themselves to him, gaining his trust through sweet words and empty platitudes."

"Once in the man's confidence, his blood kin let loose their schemes. Behind closed doors, they invited merchants of evil cunning and ill repute. Not long passed before the merchants' black-cloaked numbers descended like ravens upon the land, gorging on all without offering recompense."

"The district was once again riddled by death and decay. The man and his family fought valiantly to repel the ravens, but they were defeated. Unable to bear witness to the tree's suffering, he beseeched the tree to dissolve the pact so that all may return to nothing."

"Alas, the tree could not destroy that which it loved. With remnants of the pact's magic, the district was spirited away."

"In time, the memory of the district faded in people's hearts and minds. Yet to this day, the district persists, cheating the passage of time and resisting the taint of the world. There, the man's soul rests in the very winds that run through its many twists and bends."

A strong gust blew through the stained glass canopy, giving birth to a cascade of chimes. The old woman smiled placidly.

It was different from what Haruhi had told me about the arcade. This version seemed more a myth of how the arcade started than anything, but I'd bet a week's lunches that the man in the story was Kana Tatsura. If the story were true, then the whole arcade would have been 'spirited away'. It would have been impossible for Haruhi and I to get here.

"Well," I said, dusting off my pants. "Thanks for the story, Grannie." I looked over to where my daughter was hunched over, snipping away at something. "Haruhi, are you done yet?"

"Almost done!"

Haruhi had filled a paper bag. I could see the red cloth, a few spools of thread, and some yellowed cardboard which could have been dress patterns. "Yeah Pop, got everything I need. Grannie, I'll take these. Put them on my tab, 'kay?"

The old lady nodded, her spinning never once interrupted.

"Haruhi, wai-" I started to say, before Haruhi dragged me off.

"Shouldn't we go back and pay for the stuff you took?" I asked as we walked away from the store.

"Nah, I'm a regular."

"You didn't even tell her what you got. She's blind!"

"She can keep track." Haruhi grinned. "I think she has a super memory or something- maybe super hearing too. I read that a blind person's other senses become more developed to make up for the loss. She remembers whatever I get and gives me the total when I go to pay up."

"Haruhi?"

"Yeah?"

"What kind of things do you talk to her about?"

She shrugged. "Nothing special- stuff that happened since my last visit mostly."

"You never talked to her about me or our relatives?"

Haruhi bit her lip in thought, "Maybe. Why?"

Should I tell her? It didn't seem worth lying about even though it was pretty weird. "When I was in there, she called me Ranma Saotome."

A wide grin split her face and she barked a laugh. "Hah! I knew that old lady was psychic or something. She says the most mysterious things sometimes."

"You could have told her your grandmother's name at some point."

"Ah, stop ruining my fun," Haruhi said. "That still doesn't explain why she used Grandmother's last name."

"Coincidence. Or you could have told her and she called me that to be all mystic."

Haruhi shook her head. "I bet you had a boring childhood."

"..." was my reply.

"C'mon, we've got more to see."

It was lunch by the time Haruhi and I had finished looking over the first and second section of the arcade. We ate at a Chinese stand. Greasy sausages hung like tinsel from the ceiling. Haruhi said that the absence of anyone was normal and that we could leave our money in the black bowl at the far end of the counter. I didn't feel right about it, but after a full minute inhaling the sweet aroma of savoury pork buns and barbeque chicken, I gave in.

Fortunately, there was a price board behind the bowl. Haruhi and I kept tally as we ate. No one bothered us. All the businesses seemed to trust that the customers would serve and pay themselves.

"Pop, you're such a glutton." Haruhi put a hand on her waist as we walked. "How could you still have takeout after eating so much?"

I looked at her from the corner of my eye while sipping soup that I had ladled into a cup.

"This is good, and I wouldn't talk if I were you- or did you forget who paid the bill? Does three pork buns, five dumplings, one barbequed pigeon, a helping of Chinese stir-fried vegetables with a side of kung-pow shrimp sound familiar?"

Haruhi colored. "I'm a growing girl, what's your excuse, blubber gut." Haruhi poked into my waist- or at least, tried to.

I tossed the empty cup into a nearby trashcan, and winked. "Abs of steel. Not bad for an old man huh?"

"Humph," she sniffed.

Chuckling, I noticed a woman standing at an intersection. She seemed to be hesitating about which fork to take.

"Hey Haruhi," I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "There's someone else here."

"She looks lost," Haruhi said.

"Should we see if she could use a hand?" I suggested.

"Why?" Haruhi asked. "She'll be fine if she uses her head a little. This place isn't hard to navigate—oooh."

"What's with that horrible expression?" I asked while watching Haruhi's cat-ate-the-canary grin.

Haruhi ribbed me lightly. "She's not bad."

I blushed when I realized what she was suggesting. What were the younger generations learning in school nowadays? In my day, we had a good solid moral foundation- one that involved plenty of cold water. "Keep your thoughts to yourself, my perverted daughter." I ruffled her hair, "let's go do our good deed for the day."

"Whatever you say, Pop."

"Hi," I called out to the woman, "need help?"

The woman turned, looking surprised at first, and then walked towards us. As she got closer, it became more apparent that Haruhi had been right. There was a graceful sway to her hips as her geta clacked rhythmically against the stone laid path. Her midnight blue yukata shifted like velvet over every ample curve.

I gulped reflexively. Darned Haruhi just had to bring THAT up. It wasn't helping that this woman could go head to head with Shampoo or Ukyo on their best day.

"Hello," she said, bowing, a pretty blush colouring her soft cheeks. "Yes, I am lost. This is my first time coming here, you see."

"Ah, mine too," I said, noticing the scent of lilac.

She giggled, full, painted lips hiding behind an upraised hand. "Well then, we're the same aren't we?"

"I guess we are," I chucked.

Haruhi cleared her throat, an amused twinkle in her eyes.

"...my daughter knows that place like the back of her hand. Maybe she can help you. Right Haruhi?"

The woman looked at Haruhi as if she had just noticed her presence. "Haruhi? You're not Haruhi Suzumiya are you?"

It was Haruhi's turn to be surprised. "Yeah, have we met?"

"I've heard rumours." She smiled serenely, long lashes partially hiding the almost iridescent violet in her eyes.

"Hah! I see word of my exploits spread far and wide!"

Exploits? What exploits? And where had this woman heard about my daughter? To recognize her on sight just from hearsay, I hope Haruhi hadn't done something incredible again. This woman was either being very tactful or the rumour she had heard wasn't as bad as I had feared.

The giggle came again. "My, you certainly are as spirited as they say."

"I apologize. She's really a nice girl, just very forceful," I said, taking a page from Kasumi.

"Not at all," she insisted. "I hope I'm not imposing."

"Don't worry about it," Haruhi said. "My old man and I were just going out shopping. Where are you trying to go?"

'Don't worry about it?' Hadn't Haruhi told me earlier how excited she was that we were going out?

"I came to buy a gift for a friend. She's very special to me, but we can't see each other very much." She smiled sadly. "I want to give her something unique, a small piece of me that she could have with her."

"A present, huh?" Haruhi tapped her cheek with a finger. "Pop and I are wandering around here. Why don't you tag along?" She gave me a wink.

Was my own daughter trying to be my matchmaker? Ah, crap. I had to do something about before-

"Then I'll humbly accept your kind offer." The woman bowed.

Darn it to hell.

"Don't thank us yet," I said, smiling wryly.

I couldn't run away. In her own warped view, this was Haruhi's way of caring for me. She had said that it was natural that a healthy man must have a woman in his life. What Haruhi expected me to do with the woman in my life was another question entirely, one that I was better off not thinking about.

I had a feeling Haruhi wouldn't hold back on the details for my sake if I were to ask. Innocence of youth, my foot!

"All right then, let's go!" Haruhi pumped her hands into the air like an excited preschooler.

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"I don't know about this." I looked dubiously at the display of decorative coasters.

Haruhi glared, her eyes accusing me of being dense.

"First encounters should have something to remember them by." She nodded firmly.

"Where are you getting these rules?"

The woman giggled. "I suppose she is right, what do you say, Mr. Suzumiya?"

"Uh...okay," I said, wondering how it was possible that there was another person in the world who thought Haruhi was right. "A coaster doesn't seem like a very good memento though. It should be a picture of something at least."

Haruhi pointed at the small tarp-covered booth. "You see that thing over there?"

It was the size of a large vending machine. A tarp covered the front, acting like a canopy for two stools. Softly, unobtrusively, a simple tune could be heard playing from within.

Haruhi pushed us both onto the seat. Inside, there was an antique camera roughly five times the size of a portable one. The woman shifted to get her purse.

"My treat," I said, dropping some money into a black bowl that seemed to serve as cash registers in the shopping district. Almost instantly after receiving payment, the camera whirred to life. A sign dropped down on one side, 'Remain seated please and smile' was handwritten in red brush.

There was more shifting, and then, something soft on my arm- two soft somethings. She had wrapped herself around my arm. A perfectly innocent gesture, maybe. I had been too busy averting my eyes to tell. She was slightly shorter so I had a clear view down the folds of her yukata, which were parted just enough for me to glimpse snow white peaks. A sudden and inexplicable urge to go climbing filled me.

It was surprising steady her hold was. She was applying just enough pressure to tell me she had no intention of letting go- a small part of me wondered if I even wanted her to.

The woman glanced at me, the corner of her eye meeting my own for a fraction of a second.

"Smile for the camera," she whispered.

Oh, right. The camera flash was so bright that I was left seeing spots when we got out of the booth.

When I finally turned to see how the woman was doing, she was none-the-worse-for-wear, standing there, her hands folded in front of her, smiling serenely, almost Kasumi-like in manner.

"I'm looking forward to seeing the final product," she said, the booth meanwhile busily making mechanical sounds. We waited patiently for something to come out of it. There was a glass covered hatch at the side, similar to the bottom of a vending machine. After hearing a metallic 'ding', two round objects fell into the hatch.

I took the pair from the recess, and examined the product. The usual thing was stickers, but in a weird arcade like this one, I suppose custom coasters coming from a photo booth wasn't entirely unexpected.

"They're lovely," she crooned.

The coasters were made from a polished hardwood, possibly the same material that the giant tree was made of. On the surface, there was an etching of me and the woman. My smile was awkward, but I couldn't help noticing that I also seemed happy.

"Here." I turned to hand the woman her copy, but she wasn't where I expected. In one fluid movement, the woman had slipped inside my guard. The smell of lilacs was intoxicating. I remembered thinking how careless I had been to allow this to happen before world dissolved in a shimmering pink haze.

When I came to, her lips were parting from mine. I restrained the urge to follow that soft, moist siren's call.

I barely felt one of the coasters leave my hand.

Her tongue flitted seductively across her lips as she stepped back. "Payment, Mr. Suzumiya," she whispered.

"Nughggah?" I said, my senses still scrambled.

She tittered mischievously.

"Hey!" Haruhi came running.

I looked down at her, brain finally rebooting. "Where did you disappear to?"

The woman winked and held a finger to her lips from behind Haruhi. I concentrated every bit of control I had into suppressing the oncoming blush.

"Look what I got!" She waved three tickets. "Passes to the canopy garden! I won them at the lottery station. They let you draw a ball for every thousand yen that you spend."

"How do they know that you spent that much?" I asked.

"They don't, there are just instructions posted. This district uses the honor code. Besides, who'd want to do something stupid like cheat a shopping district lottery? The prizes aren't worth much."

"Canopy Garden?" The woman clapped. "How intriguing!"

"The giant tree at the center of the arcade is only the first level. You can't see it, but there's a garden above with all sorts of interesting plants and fish."

"Hey wait a minute, Haruhi," I interrupted, if I didn't, this woman could get dragged into Haruhi's pace. "You shouldn't assume people are free to do whatever you want. She may really need to get that present for her friend."

"I don't mind at all. Please allow me to accompany you both."

"See pop, what'd I tell you?" Haruhi slapped me on the back.

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"There are a lot more jars than before," Haruhi said, when we arrived at the first level of the giant tree. The place looked like a mini city of jars with bamboo lids standing like buildings. The jars were of every shape and size and covered the floor, leaving just enough space for visitors to walk without around. A miniature river of amber liquid ran among the jars. The liquid, slightly viscous and sweetly fragrant, dripped from wooden taps pounded into the bark-covered walls.

The sap, for lack of a better term, was probably collected in the jars for storage.

"This room has a nice scent doesn't it?" The woman closed her eyes and took a long breath.

"I've always liked this place. Wait here and I'll show you why." Haruhi trotted off into one of the hallways connected to the room.

Haruhi returned carrying a tray with three, small porcelain saucers, and a glass pitcher shaped to look like a giant sakura bud. Haruhi carefully set the tray on a nearby jar and poured the contents into the saucers.

"Haruhi, this isn't alcoholic is it?"

"You're no fun at all." She raised her saucer. "A toast to new relationships!"

I raised my saucer automatically. "A toast-wait, what?"

The two were already downing the contents of their saucers. Not wanting to ruin the mood, I decided to give the liquid a try myself.

"This is absolutely delicious." the woman covered her mouth with a hand.

"Isn't it the tasty?" Haruhi licked her lips after emptying her saucer in one gulp.

The amber liquid had a complex, fruity sweetness, light and somehow cool to the tongue. It wasn't thickly viscous anymore like the way it was when it was flowing in the river. Fermentation probably broke down the sugars. I could taste a touch of alcohol in the drink.

Haruhi was already busy pouring another saucer for the woman. "Drink up, there's still plenty left."

"Thank you, Haruhi"

"You remind me a lot of someone who used to be in my class," Haruhi remarked. "I didn't care enough to remember her name. She used to be the class rep, but she wasn't interesting at all. You are though."

"Oh..." The woman paused. "You're not saying this to get on my good side, are you?"

"Hah!" Haruhi barked. "As if, I, the wonderful Haruhi Suzumiya would stoop to flattery! If I say you're interesting, then you better believe I mean it! That girl acted nice to please anyone. You're different though. I can tell you're not faking like she was."

The woman paused. "You really think so? Am I not acting to get you to like me?"

Haruhi gave her the thumbs up. "I guarantee it!"

The woman smiled warmly, this time with more feeling than she'd ever shown. "If you say so, then it must be true."

123123

After we had out fill, Haruhi guided us to a cage lift. She slipped the three tickets into a slotted box beside the entrance and the lift slowly came rattling down.

The second level was bright, incredibly so compared to the first floor. I squinted as my eyes adjusted, and then stared open-mouthed at the view as I approached the balcony.

The network of branches stretched further than I had thought possible, spanning above most of the arcade's area. The tree's glass leaves, which had a soft glow from beneath, glittered like light the ocean's surface from above.

"Incredible." I saw the area from where Haruhi and I had entered along with the other places we had visited. Those areas were in good repair, having marked paths that were easily accessible. I noticed darker patches where the tree's branches no longer had its glass leaves, and the buildings beneath didn't so much look like they were falling apart as they were withering away. The arcade was like one giant living whole.

Haruhi's hand slipped into mine.

"The first time I saw this view," Haruhi said, "I thought that people don't always have to be small. They can do big things like Kana did."

I didn't know how to answer. This arcade was fantastic, perhaps even impossibly so. It was humbling to know that one man could achieve so much.

We spent the better part of two hours exploring the rest of the canopy garden. There were enough strange plants and vibrantly colored poisonous fish in it to make even the Amazons drool.

It was nearing sunset when we took the lift back to the first floor.

"I should be going," the woman said when we reached the tree's entrance.

"Oh no!" Haruhi exclaimed overdramatically. "I forgot I wanted to get something at the gift shop."

"It was really nice meeting you," Haruhi said before running off.

The woman watched Haruhi with an amused smile. "You do realize she did this to get us alone."

"Yeah," I said, blood pounding in my ears. I didn't have room in my life for this, not at the moment anyway. I held out a hand- I was going to play it safe. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss... uh…" To my mounting horror, I hadn't gotten her name.

The woman looked at me curiously before smiling.

"Ryoko," she said, shaking my hand.

"Uh… family name?" I asked weakly, hoping she'd give me the chance to address her more formally.

"Goodbye, Mr. Suzumiya," she said, walking off.

"What was that all about?" I asked the air as she disappeared down one of the paths.

A moment later, Haruhi returned with a silly little grin plastered on her face and a bag of nuts in her hands.

"So?" She asked.

"So what?" I asked back.

She wrinkled her brow. "Don't give me that? Did you get her number?"

"Uh, no. Should I have?" I grinned stupidly.

Light finally dawning in her eyes, she asked, "Why did you do it? You had her!"

More like she had me.

I was about to suggest going home when I heard a loud crash and the sounds of struggle.

"Old Man?" Haruhi heard it too.

"Wait here," I ordered.

In front of a stuffed animal shop, a man was brandishing a hammer at two black-cloaked figures. They were hopping from one place to another, slowly herding him into a corner.

"Back you buzzards! Back!" He swung at them. The cloaked figures dodged. My eyes hardened at the glint of steel beneath the fluttering cloaks.

It didn't matter which one the attacker was at this point. What I had to do was stop the fight before someone got hurt.

I charged in, aiming a roundhouse kick at the closest black figure, and was surprised when I missed. The black figure had hopped back into a crouch before streaking towards me.

Moving on instinct, I twisted my body to avoid the weapon. There was a sharp whistling sound as wide gashes appeared on my shirt. The attacker's weapon was a three-bladed claw.

The other figure closed in, but I already had their speed down. Stamping heavily, I pinned the edge of the black cloak down and launched a haymaker. The figure was wearing an obsidian mask shaped like a large beak.

There was a satisfying crack as my fist made contact. Black shards fell away from beneath the hood.

Foot still planted on the cloak of the crumpled figure, I took a defensive stance against the remaining attacker.

The attacker, probably after weighing the odds, paused. Then its chest puffed to an unnatural size and let out a deafening, high-pitched squawk, which forced me to cover my ears.

I felt movement on the foot pinning down the cloak. The one I took out was gone, leaving only black feathers in its wake.

There was a thud as the man collapsed himself against the wall.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Fine," the man said between laboured breaths. He was sturdily built with a heavyset jaw. The square moustache on his upper lip was dark and thick like the bristles of a paintbrush.

"Who- WHAT were those things?" I asked.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. His breathing suddenly calmed. "A long story."

Greeaaaaaaaat.

"Did you come alone?" He asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"No," I answered, suddenly nervous. "My daughter's here."

"They have eyes everywhere."

Oh no. "Haruhi!" I turned to dash back, but she was already running towards us.

"Pop!"

"We have a little bit of time before the entire flock comes looking." The man said, picking up his hammer. "I have an inn not too far away. You'll be safe there until first light tomorrow."

"Why first light?"

"Less of them are awake in the morning."

I bit my lip. Why couldn't I leave people's problems alone?

"Thank you," said the man. "My name is Jiro Tatsura, and I owe you a debt. If it weren't for your help, I'd be in bad shape."

Haruhi arrived. "What happened?"

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Author's Notes:

Yes, I know I still haven't buttoned up Mikuru, this chapter's content sort of extended itself past a point where I couldn't get to it. I'll cover it in the next chapter.

Thanks for the reviews even though I haven't added anything in more than a year. To those who've put effort above and beyond average in their reviews but didn't leave any way of contact, know that I've considered what you've said, and if you want a response, please leave a way to reply.

Special thanks to Fallacy, my plot and grammar buddy, and Yasuhei for prereading and insights.

Thanks to TFF readers for corrections and input: Dumbledork, inverted helix, cgobyd.

Thanks to Fukufic readers for corrections and input: PCHeintz72, Stratagemini


	8. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Ranma and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi are not mine.

Friendly reminder: Knowing Ranma One-half is the only requirement for understanding this fic. I'll be giving all the necessary information about The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi as needed.

Update: 29 July 29, 2012 like with every new chapter update I've done, the previous chapters are cleaned up a little more so that they read better. Content is still the same.

Demiglace Graffiti: Chapter 6

By ToastedPine

"What happened?" Haruhi asked as she reached us, glancing at the shattered glass of the store behind us. There were blade marks all over the store's front display almost as if the attackers were trying to hack the whole store apart from the outside in.

I turned to the man. "Where's the inn?"

"Follow me." Jiro turned on the cobble stone and lead the pace at a brisk walk. Despite being in his late fifties, the man was in top condition. The well-toned muscles on his shoulders and back were the product of hard work. I could tell that he was slightly favoring his left side, but thought better of asking since it didn't seem to bother him that much.

"I'm Ranma and this is Haruhi." I said, catching up. "Haruhi, this is Jiro Tatsura."

Haruhi looked at me in surprise. "Tatsura, as in Kana Tatsura?"

"He was my father," Jiro answered.

Haruhi looked like she wanted to say more, but I put a hand on her shoulder.

"We have to hurry. Those guys who attacked him might be coming after us too." I paused. "Sorry for getting us into this mess."

"You did the right thing." Haruhi made a thumb's up. "I guarantee it!"

123123

The inn stood on a hill at the end of a long, S-curved path beyond the reach of the tree's glass foliage. A sign hung beside the main gate, "Tatsura Inn". Western stonework harmonized with Japanese decorative elements and doorways reminiscent of Taishou era architecture. Missing were the raccoon statues, vines, and other elements that blended the rest of the arcade with nature.

Jiro unlocked the heavy iron gate. For an inn, it definitely looked secure.

By the time we reached the inn's dining hall, Jiro was pale and covered in sweat. He stumbled towards a chair, but his legs gave out before he could make it.

"Jiro!" I caught him. My right hand came away wet with blood.

Peeling away his leather jacket, I found a gash on his right side about three inches long. The blood was black and smelled like rotting fruit. I tore the shirt so I could get a better look.

Haruhi gasped behind me.

"Hot water, towels, and the strongest alcohol you can find!" I ordered.

"Got it." She ran off.

While examining the wound further, I heard Jiro groan.

"You should have said something."

"No point. We… would have needed to come here anyway."

The wound wasn't deep, but it was definitely infected. I needed to get him strong enough to talk so I could figure out what to do next. I got up and found a linen napkin on the table, then rolled the cloth up to wedge between his teeth.

"Jiro! Jiro!" I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes. "I'm going to try a healing technique. It's going to hurt a lot. Bite on this, and get ready."

He was barely conscious so I wasn't sure he heard. Taking a deep breath, I channeled some ki into my left hand while holding him steady with my right.

"Here we go."

The flesh around the wound turned an angry red, swelling and then oozing black blood. Jiro's body rigidly convulsed as he tried to scream around the linen gag. Excruciating seconds passed before the blood finally shifted to a healthier color. He had passed out from the pain, but his breathing was relaxed. I sat back on the floor, emotionally drained.

A moment later, Haruhi zipped through the door on the far side of the room. "Here's the stuff you asked for!" The wash basin she carried held a steaming kettle, towels, and a large bottle of sake.

"Thanks," I said, taking the items from her.

I cleaned Jiro's injury with hot water and sake then bandaged it with towels. The gash on his side wasn't closed. I'd have to get a needle in a minute.

Haruhi stared.

"He looks better now. What did you do?"

"There were some toxins in his blood so I helped his body get rid of it. If you'd kept up with your training-" I stopped abruptly.

"You used martial arts?" Haruhi's eyes were shining as she nearly throttled me. "How? Teach me!"

How was I supposed to get out of this? Whatever, I may as well go with the truth. It wasn't like I was revealing the secret to the Mokou Takabisha.

"Even if I told you, you'd never be able to use it."

"Why not?" Haruhi looked annoyed.

"I used ki"

"Life energy?"

"Yes. You know, that stuff I told you needed years of intense meditation and physical training to develop?"

"But training is boring!" Haruhi complained.

"Nothing worthwhile is ever easy."

"If you have ki, how come you're not throwing around fireballs?"

"Everyone has ki," I corrected. "And fireballs? I'm not a sorcerer."

"Fine!" Haruhi said, before moving to clean up the mess. I was impressed at how little she minded the blood.

"…Haruhi?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you leave the bottle?"

"Idiot."

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A couple of hours had passed since we arrived at the inn. I was upstairs in one of the rooms. Jiro was on the bed. Haruhi was asleep in the room across the hall.

Jiro shifted slightly, his eyes blinking. "Ngh, how long was I out?"

"A couple of hours."

"I was sick for days the last time those damned things got me," Jiro said, surprised. "How?"

"An old healing technique, but that doesn't matter at the moment."

Jiro nodded. "You probably already guessed that they're not human."

I replayed the attack in my head. Those things moved more like birds than people.

"You're in way over your head," Jiro said. "Daybreak isn't that far off. Rest here. In a few hours, you can leave with your daughter. As long as you both avoid reentering the bridge between worlds, they won't be able to follow you."

"Bridge between worlds?"

Jiro lifted his gaze and looked at me as though I'd grown a second head. "You should have seen the bridge across the mist. No one can enter without passing that."

"I remember the bridge, but what's this about 'worlds'?"

Jiro buried his face in his hands. "For the love of…. You didn't notice?"

"The entire arcade is a sealed reality," he said exasperated. "It's not part of the normal world."

"That's ridiculous, sealed realities are-"

"Impossible?" Jiro asked "You just fought birdmen that vanish into piles of feathers. What about the arcade? Did nothing about it seem even a little strange to you?"

Well, since he put it that way…

"You'd be surprised what's out there." I said weakly.

"Why are you trying so hard to explain all this away?"

"I'm not! I'll admit you're right. This is another world. Happy?"

"No," he said. "All I'm concerned about is getting you and your daughter safely out of the arcade."

This wasn't good. "Haruhi comes here regularly. How is she able to get here in the first place?"

"I don't really know. The arcade was just like any other arcade when I left for university. One day, I got a letter from my mother. A lot of what she wrote didn't make sense. The only thing I understood was that something horrible had happened. I came back as soon as I could, but the entrance to the arcade had disappeared."

"I wandered the area for years, trying to find a trace of home. People thought I had gone insane. No one remembered the arcade at all. Then, when I had lost of hope, the bridge appeared in front of me."

"There are other people who've come. Everyone I've talked to found the bridge a different way. The only thing they have in common is that they've thought of leaving the normal world in one way or another."

My horror mounted at the implications. Could Haruhi have….

"Suicide?"

A bitter smile formed on Jiro's lips. "Sometimes, thankfully, there are other reasons. The most common is a feeling of alienation—like there's no place for them in the normal world."

"Can't they come here by accident?" I asked. Ryuoga could have wandered here at some point. Then again, Ryouga wasn't exactly the poster child for mental health.

"Not as far as I can tell. I've been here a very long time. There's always a story."

"What about me? My daughter dragged me here."

"What about you?" Jiro asked rhetorically. "You healed my infection in a fraction of the time it would have taken me to do it with the right medicines, fight like a seasoned veteran, and try so hard to be logical that you miss the obvious."

"…" I glared.

"Don't give me that look. You know I'm right."

He was right. I had my problems, and Haruhi had hers. "There has to be more. This place wouldn't be so empty if all it took was a death wish or loneliness."

"Maybe. If there is another element to this, I couldn't tell you- nor can I tell you why some people like your daughter can return."

And that was the fly in my soup. Haruhi could come back. I couldn't stop her—not when a magic bridge can poof into existence anywhere. Alright. Enough! If the gods wanted to play, I'll play.

"Is there a way to get rid of them?"

Jiro sat bolt upright, wincing at the sudden movement. "You can't be serious."

"Try me."

"You can take on two crows, but there are hundreds!"

I looked into Jiro's eyes, letting him taste the anger and frustration boiling violently beneath the surface. I was almost looking forward to it. Finally, an opponent I could punch. "Birdmen, crows- whatever they are—I'll hunt them to the last if that's what it takes."

"I knew you were crazy," Jiro said, shaking his head. "But I'm even crazier for believing you can actually help. There might be a way to stop the crows once and for all without killing ourselves in the process."

"I'm all ears."

Jiro got up from the bed. "Give me a few more stitches, and a change of bandages, then we can go to the study, and I'll show you."

123123

Jiro's study wasn't really a study. He had a shelf of books, but the rest of the room was more a workshop. Tools on racks and pegs covered almost every inch of available wall. Wood and stone of different varieties sat in neat piles on the corner. Raccoon statues in various states of completion sat on a long workbench.

The map of the arcade that Jiro had laid out easily covered the large table in the center of the room.

I whistled. "This is nice work." While the map was flat, it rendered the arcade in three dimensions by using different colors. The lower parts of the arcade were in dark brown ink, while the more elevated parts like the canopy were done in a light green.

"Thanks," Jiro said with a proprietary air.

"What are these red blocks?" I asked. Highlighted rectangles were scattered all over the maps outer perimeter.

"The red blocks are areas where the crows have taken over."

"All of that?" I asked surprised. "How come the crows hadn't attacked Haruhi and I as soon as we entered the arcade?"

"They don't attack everyone, just the ones who get in the way."

I glared. "Stop being so darn cryptic."

"Sorry." Jiro shook his head. "I'm so used to playing everything close to the chest. Getting others involved would only put them in danger." He slipped a hammer from his tool belt and started rolling the handle in his hands. "The crows want to take over this arcade."

"Makes sense." I nodded. "Why do they follow rules about not attacking visitors? If anyone who enters the arcade is a potential ally to you, getting rid of them before you even meet would be the easiest way to win."

"It's not that they choose to follow the rules. Crows are incapable of original thought. They're not really alive. Think of them more as robots, only instead of motors and gears, they're made of…." Jiro waved his hammer in small circular motions, looking for the right term. "Malign energy. They're physical manifestations of evil."

"Whatever they're made of, it's a good thing we can hurt them," I said.

"As far as I can tell, the crows appeared when the arcade became a separate world. They started destroying as much of Funaho no Ko as they could get their claws on. Fortunately, the tree had changed to the form we see today. It did something to keep the crows at bay long enough for me to arrive. However, it wasn't able to eliminate the crows for altogether. Where there are no traces of Funaho no Ko, a dark taint seeps from the ground."

"'Funaho's child'? I thought your father built the arcade."

"Yes, and don't ask me how it got its name. I've looked, and I haven't found records of Funaho in books of legend or history. My father did build the arcade, or at least a majority of the buildings including this inn."

Did Kana build the arcade including the artificial tree or didn't he? This whole story was giving me a headache so I focused on what I did understand. "If Funaho no Ko protects the arcade, then why hasn't it grown to the point where the crows are gone?"

"Because Funaho doesn't grow. I've tried." Jiro rubbed his forehead. "I know it takes in water and light. The sacred tree has to be alive since there are places in the arcade where sap is produced."

"Like the fermentation room? Haruhi brought me there earlier today. That wine is incredible."

"While Funaho is alive, it either doesn't grow or grows so slowly it that it may as well be stunted. That means every time the crows destroy more of Funaho no Ko's roots or the buildings in the arcade constructed with sacred lumber, the dark taint finds more land to spread. The taint is getting larger. I'm only one man, and Funaho no Ko's power cannot repel all attacks."

"How do we stop it?"

Jiro tapped his hammer against the eastern part of the map. "Here, where the taint is largest, is where I saw a giant nest. The place is full of crows. Nowhere else have I seen that many of them gathered. I think that nest is their source."

"How were you able to get close enough to see this?" I asked. "I'm guessing you have a way to reach there undetected."

"Beneath the arcade, Funaho no Ko has a network of roots. Some of them have carved tunnels large enough for a man to pass. I managed to find the nest early, back when the taint in the area hadn't been that large. While the roots there may have died due to the concentration of taint in the ground, I'm pretty sure the tunnels are still intact."

"Old Man, you there?" Haruhi's voice came from the hall.

"Okay, I think I understand the plan." I grimaced. "Now for the hard part."

123123

"Why can't I go with you?" Haruhi stomped the ground. "I'm good enough at sneaking. They won't even know where I am."

"I know you are, Haruhi." I placated, "But we're facing live blades and who knows what else." I placed a hand on her head. "Even if the odds are close to nothing, any risk of losing you is too much."

"Then why not call the police?"

"Because the police aren't equipped to handle this," Jiro stepped in, "And before the authorities escalate it to the people who do, a lot of policemen will have lost their lives. I've seen your father fight. He's proven that he can survive. If you get hurt, how will I face your father? Making amends would be impossible." Just before we went to meet Haruhi, I asked Jiro to keep the arcade's mystic nature a secret. He didn't seem too happy, but he played along.

Haruhi's eyes shimmered with building tears as she glared at Jiro. "Do what you want!" She whipped a finger at me, "You better come back alive, or it's the death penalty! You hear me? Death penalty!" She yelled as she ran up the stairs.

"Haruhi…." I said, leaning against the wall.

"If you die, I will tell her the truth. She deserves that much."

I looked up at him. "What's so wrong about wanting a normal life for her?"

"What's so wrong about including her in yours?" He countered, the grip on his hammer tightening. Catching himself, he turned away. "Sorry, it was not my intention to tell you your business."

I got up. "I'll go talk to her."

123123

Haruhi lay on the bed, her face buried in a pillow.

"Haruhi?

Something muffled came through the pillow.

"Could you say that again?"

Haruhi flipped over and locked eyes. "I said, 'Interesting people don't die!'"

I blinked. Surprised.

"What are you smiling for, you jerk?"

She was actually worried, like any regular person should have been. I felt a pang of guilt. Maybe Jiro was a little right.

Sitting on the bed beside her, I brought her close. "Haruhi, I'm not gonna die. Yes, what I'm about to do is really dangerous, which is why I want you to stay here where it's safe, but I promise that I would never risk disappearing forever. I love you too much for that."

I kissed the top of her head.

"And… I think…." I grasped at the words. "I think I need to do this—as a martial artist," and as soon as the words came out, I realized their truth. I'd been holding back for so long, I never even noticed a weight had been pressing down on my shoulders.

Haruhi looked up at me, surprise evident in her eyes. Then she smiled that thousand-watt smile of hers.

"Give them hell, Old Man."

123123

Gripping the strap of my carrying rack, I said, "Alright."

Jiro nodded his assent, and walked ahead. He had an identical carrying rack on his back. Fastened to the rack were wooden casks around ten liters each. The difference between his carrying rack and mine was that his also had a tap and pump mechanism strapped to the side. I opted to go without the machinery, and instead replaced the weight with two extra casks.

We walked to the back of the inn where there was a cellar door that opened to a network of tunnels formed long ago by the sacred tree's roots.

Jiro shut the cellar door above us. I squinted. Somehow, it wasn't completely dark inside.

"Funaho no Ko emits a dim light. We'll be able to see once our eyes adjust. I do have a couple of lanterns in case of emergency, but the crows can see in the dark so it's best that our night vision isn't hampered. He rested his carrying rack on the ground. "Ten minutes should be enough time to get used to the dark."

I stared at the tunnel wall. Little by little, the faint yellow light became more noticeable. The roots themselves glowed from the inside. "Don't you find it strange that the roots form tunnels large enough for us to walk?"

"Funaho no Ko is a sacred Tree, one with real power. I wouldn't be surprised if it has a plan for all of us. All I know is that Funaho no Ko does provide for our needs." He tapped on one of the casks. Inside was a wine called the Water of Life, which was made from the fermented sap of Funaho no Ko. It was the same wine that Haruhi and I shared earlier with a mysterious Ryoko.

Aside from tasting great, the Water of Life had another property that made it useful—the power to purify. "How effective is this wine?"

"It'll burn through like acid, producing smoky, black wisps. Out in the open, that's nothing to worry about. The problem comes when you fight crows with the Water of Life in an enclosed area."

"Don't tell me," I grimaced. "Those black wisps are poisonous."

"We'll have to knock crows down the hard way," Jiro confirmed. "I have a collapsible short staff, but I'll be relying on you for the bulk of the fighting- at least until we get out in the open." He re-shouldered his carrying rack, and waited for me to pick up my own.

"Let's get going."

123123

The network of underground tunnels seemed to spread in every direction. Jiro and I marched on with him in the lead. "How far do these tunnels go?" I asked.

"Even I haven't explored everything," he answered. "I can tell you that the area these tunnels cover is at least as large as the arcade above. Pipes for water, electricity, and other utilities run through here. Over the years, I've maintained and added to the arcade. This place is no exception."

We stopped at a fork. Jiro moved his hands over the plate that was just visible in the dim light. Embossed on those metal plates were patterns that were equivalent to their counterparts on the surface. "Third to the right," he said.

Our footsteps echoed in the distance. The silence was so complete I could hear my own heart beating. "Why do you do it?" I asked.

"Do what?"

I played with the collar of my shirt. "Defend this arcade. Don't you miss the outside world?"

"My father built this arcade with his own two hands. The arcade was more than a collection of buildings to him. It was part of his soul. Don't get me wrong, he loved my mother and I, but he kept any business related to the arcade very private. Whenever I'm here retracing his actions, doing the work he's done before… I feel like I can tell what was going through his mind. The incident happened so suddenly. Mother and I never got our answers. While I have my suspicions, that's all they are."

"So you're searching for closure?"

"I don't know. We could have shared his burden," Jiro said, balling his fists. "The regret I carry everyday… no innocent should bear that."

I hesitated. "He was only trying to protect you and your mother, I think."

Shaking his head, Jiro continued walking. "Whatever his reasons, the one thing my mother and I needed more than protection was his trust."

Jiro's back retreated further into the darkness. Who was right in the end? I didn't have the answer. Kana's actions had spared his wife and son from some pain and left them wide open to others. Was that all Kana's effort had led to?

123123

Eventually, we reached a point where there were no metal plates to guide the way. The omnipresent yellow faded away, replaced by dingy gray starlight that squeezed in from cracks above.

"It's not much further," Jiro announced. We stopped at another fork, which lead three separate directions.

Barely audible scuttling echoed through the underground.

"Do you hear that?" I whispered.

As though woken by my whisper, dozens of glistening ruby pinpricks winked into existence.

"Well, crap." I said. The tide of dark cloaks surged as one.

123123

Crunch went another beak as my elbow smashed with deadly accuracy. Just the shock from the impact should have been good enough to put an average man down. We were dealing as much damage as we could to keep the crows at bay while slowly backing towards our destination.

Jiro brought his short staff in a shallow arc to parry a set of razor claws, and then followed with an overhead strike that broke through an arm bone. We were dealing our fair share of punishment, but the Crows proved to be incredibly resilient, attacking even though they sustained what should have been crippling injuries. Snapping a set of claws with a well-placed flick of the wrist, I considered my options.

I could hear my companion's breath getting heavier. A quick glance at his side revealed a slowly spreading patch of red through his white shirt. Jiro swung again, but this time his strike was slow and the crow dodged. Another crow stabbed its beak forward causing Jiro to stumbled back, barely avoiding getting skewered.

In a few minutes, Jiro would be too tired. I kicked a spray of stones at our attackers to give him time to get back up. I could tell that we were losing a battle of attrition. We needed something drastic.

"Jiro," I yelled, twisting to the side so I could knee a crow that had committed too much momentum to a forward thrust. "Which way?"

Miraculously, Jiro heard me over the din. "Left!" He said, whipping his short staff across another crow's head.

"Get behind me. NOW!"

Thankfully, Jiro obeyed immediately, diving into a role. Using both hands, I drove a finger each into two of the casks, then folded patterns of ki derived from a half-formed technique onto the surface before slamming them onto the tunnel ceiling. Just like the eggs, the casks wobbled on the ceiling for a split second and then snapped in place. The Water of Life began streaming out from the holes where my fingers had pierced the wood.

Jiro barely had enough time to realize the horror of what I had done when I unleashed the attack. "Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts Indiscriminate Combo, Drunken Dragon's Wrath!"

With the Chestnut Fist's blistering speeds, I struck, sending fists of wine into the melee. Crows were thrown back violently as they burned in mid fall, and the Water of Life did its work, savaging their bodies with burning holes.

True to Jiro's description, the black smoke from fallen crows expanded violently, producing a loud, pressure-changing 'WUMP', as it surged towards us.

"Shiiiiiiiiitttttt!" Jiro's screamed in terror.

While gathering the hot ki of battle, I focused on the Soul of Ice.

"Hiryuu." Crows were thrown about like ragdolls by drastic changes in pressure.

"Shoten." Some had tried to attack, but met with a frigid barrier that froze lethally on contact.

"HA!" I thrust out a cold fist, igniting a reaction that was as familiar to me as the back of my hand. The opposing forces of ki twisted together into a tornado that ripped apart everything that entered its gaping maw.

The left-most tunnel had cleared, but not for long. More were coming.

"We gotta go!" I said.

Jiro got to his feet, dashing despite his injuries. We reached the end of the tunnel, crows slashing and pecking at our heels. I grabbed one of the crows and threw it back against the others, preparing to make a stand, but the builder's son took something out of his tool belt and threw it along the ground. The crows that were about to attack stopped suddenly, tilted their heads, and then, as though seeing nothing, turned back the way they came.

I crouched down to get a better look at what Jiro had thrown. They were small pieces of sacred lumber.

"Tanuki carvings," Jiro explained. "They don't last very long, but they have a limited power to transform, disguise, or fool. The crows aren't very smart to begin with so I fooled their senses into believing that the tunnel had ended. That… that was some trick you did there. I thought we were done for." His expression sobered. "Who are you really?"

I closed my eyes and rested against the tunnel wall. "I'm just a father trying to make the world a safer place for his daughter."

123123

At tunnel's end, a set of roots had pushed the ground up enough to breach the surface. It let us view the surroundings without getting spotted by eyes from above. We rested there long enough for me to look after Jiro's stitches.

Unfortunately, that's where our luck ended. True to Kana's earlier description there was a giant nest. Signs were present that this section of the arcade had originally been semi-circular, but the concrete and stone had been reduced to rubble, leaving only twisted rebar. The crows had then woven other pieces of rebar, wire, strips of tarp, and anything else they could find to complete their nest.

Old lawn chairs, stop signs, and even traffic lights were somehow worked together to form precarious spires that jutted out from the nest like demonic fingers clawing at the sky. On these spires perched lines of crows, their eyes unblinking scarlet stars in the anemic evening light.

"There are residential areas on the second floor," Jiro said, "The nest hadn't been as large the last time I saw it. I hadn't thought that they would add to the structure this much."

"Residential areas?" I said, before remembering the legend. "Kana's blood kin. You think they're the source."

Jiro's expression darkened. "Yes. I'm sure that the arcade will heal once I stop them."

"Footing on that is going to be tricky at best. We won't be able to fight." I frowned. "That's not the worst part. You didn't tell me your darned crows could fly!"

"I thought calling them 'crows' would be self-explanatory," Jiro responded dryly. "Those black capes can morph into wings when this much taint is in the air."

Biting my lower lip, I considered the Bakusai Tenketsu, but I lacked the level of mastery required to form tunnels like Ryouga could. Charging at the nest and blowing a hole through it was also more than likely going to bring the whole structure down on our heads. Then there was Jiro's injuries- if I were alone, getting in would be a snap. However, this wasn't my fight. What we needed was a clear window to reach the second floor without getting attacked. This was going to suck.

"Remember when I said I would hunt the crows to extinction?"

The Tatsura heir mechanically turned his head in my direction.

I gave him a sickly grin. "Looks like that's not going to be much of an exaggeration."

"…" said Jiro.

"Here's the plan," I said, "I'll go out first, kick ass, then collapse from exhaustion. Your job will be to come after and make sure that any crows I miss don't peck the brain from out my ears."

"…" said Jiro a second time.

"I know it sounds like certain death, but don't worry, as a trained martial artist, I know what I'm doing."

"Don't forget to come after me," I said one last time, levering myself through the opening.

123123

Once outside, I hit the ground running, looking for a place with a clear line of sight to the sky above. I would be fighting hundreds of crows- each one maneuverable enough to change direction. Firing Mokou Takabisha would cost too much energy, the Hiyuu Shoten Ha would not be nearly as damaging out in the open, and going hand to hand would take too long. In this situation, there was only one technique I could use.

Decades had passed since my final duel with Shampoo, but the memory of that fight had not faded into the void. While I wasn't as strong as I could have been, I was no slouch. More importantly, I possessed far more mental discipline than I had as that fledgling in Nerima.

Fine dust rose as I slid to a stop. The crows, finally noticing my presence, took to the air, forming a large, roiling cloud of squawking demons.

Kneeling on one leg, I placed my right hand against the ground and concentrated. The ki poured from my reserves, flowing down into the ground before emerging as motes of light that softly phased in and out of existence.

Sweat poured from my brow. "50…75…100…150…200," I counted, trying to form as many orbs as I could before the crows attacked.

As though reading my mind, one of the larger crows cawed loudly, signaling the others to dive. In quick succession, the crows pitched their wings to catch the wind, and then fell like deadly obsidian rain.

The orbs, which had been floating lazily off the ground, sprang to life, forming a galaxy of tiny orbiting stars with me as its center.

"Saotome School Final Attack, Dance of the Fireflies."

Thrusting my left hand up, I let the orbs flash into the sky where they would welcome the oncoming crows. Each glowing orb had only an eighth the power of a regular Mokou Takabisha, but compressed to explosive effect.

And as the first orbs met their target, brain-jarring shockwaves transformed the sky into a cage of devastation. Crows were blown to bits either by a direct hit or by being in between two opposing detonations. Black feathers fell like volcanic ash, heavy and thick.

I hadn't gotten all of them, but with the main force destroyed, the stragglers were either hit by the last of my fireflies or had flown away. The dumber crows that did try their luck were quickly reduced to smoke by Jiro's high-pressure wine tap.

123123

With the crows whittled down, we were able to scale the nest. Inside the courtyard lay piles of junk. Dropping the pair of carrying racks that I had been shouldering, I idly picked up a cracked mirror before tossing it back. "You'd think that evil magical birds would pick up better stuff."

"They have to be here somewhere." Jiro scanned the courtyard. "There!" he said, charging forward.

"Hey, wait up!"

On the far side of the courtyard was a building of sorts. It was hard to tell beneath the confusing tangle of wreckage. As I got closer, it became more apparent that someone had built a patchwork house from different pieces of the arcade. Windows were made of wooden frames and bits of stained glass, and the roof was a mix of multihued shingles. The house's façade had come from several store fronts and even one side of a phone booth.

"Open up!" Jiro pounded on a door that looked like it could use a new coat. "I know someone's in there!"

I glanced at the rain gutters made of splintering bamboo, and wondered if there really was anyone home.

I opened my mouth. "Maybe they-"

The door opened. On the other side, holding the latch, stood a tall woman with her hair done up in a bun. She was in her thirties, and wore a lily patterned white bound tight with a dark brown obi.

"Aunt Sanae?" Jiro said in surprise before his face twisted into pure hatred. "Die!"

Pure reflex took over. My hand caught Jiro's before the chisel gave the woman a new breathing hole.

"Let go!" Jiro struggled, putting his other arm into the effort of pushing the chisel forward.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm not going to stand by and let you murder someone in front of me."

All the while, the woman who answered the door hadn't moved an inch. She stared down at us, brown eyes dispassionate. A drop of blood trickled from the needle-sharp point to the place where my hand met the chisel's shaft.

It was cold.

"Don't waste your time," she said in a voice like iron. "I'm already dead."

123123

The inside of the house was unexpected compared to the exterior. Tatami covered the floor. Washi paper was used on the walls to conceal the less uniform aspects of construction. There were also decorative pieces like calligraphy scrolls and a katana on a stand- although, if Nabiki had taught me anything, that sword was a 'showato' or non-traditionally made military sword.

Sitting across the short-legged tea table were two women. The first was the one who had met us at the door; the other was taller but younger. She wore her hair shoulder length, and was dressed in a pinstripe business suit and skirt of fine cut. Her eyes were sharp, but they weren't trained on me or anyone else in particular. The way she smiled held a trace of grim humor, like the gods had made everything into a joke at her expense.

"I'll begin with the introductions for the benefit of everyone," the woman in the kimono said. "My name is Sanae Tatsura, eldest of the four Tatsura sisters." She motioned to the woman beside her. "This is Yayoi, the second."

Sanae then said "You may come in."

The door to the adjoining room slid open. Another two women were kneeling on the other side, each one holding trays of tea. They entered and proceeded to serve us.

"Our youngest with the twin tails is Uzuki" The short girl in a yellow sundress bowed as she put the tea in front of me. In a breach of manners, she had avoided going over to Jiro in order to serve him, instead opting to place the cup as close as possible to her nephew from my side of the table.

"And the last is Hazuki." The final Tatsura sister was clearly the most beautiful of the bunch, with hair that fell in loose curls around her face. What stood out was that she was the least formal, wearing a loose yukata as though she were out for a summer stroll in the family estate. She stood behind Sanae and Yayoi after finishing, and was soon joined by Uzuki.

"Sisters, this is Ranma Suzumiya, and our nephew Jiro."

I sipped the tea and did my best not to make a face. It tasted like mummified sawdust. After I managed to calm Jiro to the point where he wouldn't fly off into a homicidal rage, I was able to pay attention to what my senses were telling me. None of the Tatsura women had any ki.

On the table was a glass oil lamp filled with a golden liquid. It was identical to the one that Hazuki and Uzuki shared behind the two elder sisters. As I watched the two younger sisters, I noticed that they were actually huddling closer to the flame as though they were getting warmth from a camp fire even though I could feel no heat.

"Why are we sitting through this farce?" Jiro asked acidly.

"Do they look alive to you? They're white as sheets, and I told you I can't feel even a trace of life energy from them. How about that they look like they haven't aged in thirty years?"

Jiro bristled, glaring daggers at his aunts.

Sanae stood. "I see now that we will not move forward unless your aggression is satisfied, I would request that you make do with killing only me."

"This is justice, you witch!"

"If I were still alive, I would call it murder."

I put an arm out to stop Jiro from launching himself at her. "Hey lady, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I'm already dead, remember?" Her eyes met mine, revealing a bone deep weariness at odds with her actions.

I grabbed the soul of ice and sent a pulse of cold ki into Jiro. "Cool off." The pulse was enough to disrupt his body's response to anger. It wasn't a fool proof method, but changing the conditions of the body could affect the mind.

Jiro lost his balance from his sitting position and fell on his back. He looked at me surprised, and then blinked before getting back up. He was still angry, but at least his blind rage had subsided.

"Ms. Sanae, please." I motioned to the cushion.

She bowed before taking a seat.

"Jiro, will you let me do the talking?" I asked.

Pressing his lips together tightly, he nodded.

"Now we're getting somewhere." I addressed Sanae, "Could we start with how you ended up in your err… current living conditions?"

The eldest Tatsura smiled slightly. "To gain a full understanding of the situation, we will have to go into the Tatsura family history."

I took a second to realize that she was indirectly asking for my permission because the story was long— a courtesy offered by only the most aristocratic ladies or geisha. It was hard to believe Jiro was even related to them.

"Our parents were second generation machine factory owners. They weren't descended from Samurai or any noble lineage. What they did have was a tenacity of spirit that could rival any feudal lord. During the industrialization of Japan, we Tatsuras amassed so much wealth and power that we were well on our way to establishing a dynasty."

Sanae sipped her tea. Did the dead need to drink or was it habit? I looked around furtively and could find no sign of food either.

"Times were hard during the economic downturn following the Second World War, but our parents had the foresight to secure their wealth against such eventualities. In a period when lower noble houses were reduced to selling their heirlooms and fineries, our parents were able to obtain betrothals for us sisters to men of excellent families. They died satisfied in the knowledge that all their children would be influential and well provided for."

A long tempered rage crept into her voice. She spoke directly to Jiro, "…that was, until your father, the Holy Man Kana brought it all tumbling down."

I felt Jiro tense. Squeezing his shoulder, I wordlessly urged him to be patient.

"He was first born and only son. Tradition dictated that he become the heir. For years after the Second World War, he was the perfect custodian of the Tatsura legacy, gaining impressive ground in the market. Then something changed. He met an orphan, and fell in love with a common seamstress."

"Yes, Jiro, that was you."

I turned to Kana's son, "Then that woman at the cloth shop?"

"My mother," he confirmed.

He glared at Sanae. "He married for love, so what? Better than being some social climber!"

"You may not think much of us, but even then, do you think your father had any right at all to ruin our lives?"

"You were all provided with generous dowries. I know that for a fact!"

The bitterness of Sanae's laugh sent chills down my spine. "If you truly regard us as 'social climbers' then you'll have to consider our position. The agreement of marriage could not stand on mere dowry."

"You should be familiar with the rest of the tale, Jiro. Kana found a poverty stricken district, and used the family fortune to bail it out. He built this arcade at the district's heart as his own personal playground. Naturally, our husbands shunned us, and their families treated us like complete outcasts. Divorce would bring dishonor to them, so they stomached our existence."

"That can't be possible…" Jiro said. "Funaho no Ko-"

"You mean your cursed sacred tree? We'll accept that it is magical. After all, its magic is responsible for dooming us to this hell. One might ask this question, however: If Funaho no Ko were solely responsible for reviving the district and this arcade, then where did all the money go?"

Jiro was trying his best to deny it, but even he couldn't ignore how much the story fit. "Father… he never told me."

It was Sanae's turn to be surprised. Then, in a self-deprecating tone, she said "I should have known. Kana was always such a fool. Even in the middle of the ugliest battle of his life, he wanted you to think that we were all one big happy family. When we met, I thought that the show you put on with your mother was all an act. Now it all makes sense."

Hazuki and Uzuki, who had been huddled by the lamp suddenly didn't look so comfortable.

"What makes sense?" I prodded.

"Mr. Suzumiya, we shall get to that shortly." She exchanged a glance with Yayoi. "When I learned of what Kana had done, I rallied us here. The Tatsura name was lost, but the wealth could still be recovered, at least enough that all of us could repair our lives. Within the arcade, there is a council that serves and administrative function. It is composed of representatives whose voting power equaled the amount of property and tenants under them. Using our connections and the wealth of our husbands, we bought property in the district and arcade in order to enter that council. Upon membership, we did whatever it took to eliminate legitimate members or bring then to heel. Our husbands' families pooled their resources to create a shadow development firm that would buy the district at severely undervalued prices."

As an architect, I had heard what would likely follow from people in supporting industries. The company would plant cabbages and claim that the land was for agricultural purposes in order to avoid residential property tax rates. This gave them time to consolidate their holdings while people went homeless because the pseudo-agricultural land would artificially increase land prices to unreasonable highs.

"However, on the eve of the settlement agreement's signing, the entire arcade was sealed. The document we used was made from paper derived from the wood of your sacred tree. In our pride, that was the greatest of follies. Black smoke leaked from the agreement's pages, and coalesced into crows.

When my sisters and I regained consciousness, everyone was dead. We exist as meat to feed the crows- to die and come back in a twisted cycle. The agreement that holds our names binds us here. Destroy that agreement and you will destroy the crows."

"You mean those crows have been eating you alive for almost forty years?" I wanted to hate them for what they did to Kana and the arcade, but what happened—what was still happening to them was too much. A quick glance at Uzuki latching in white knuckled terror to Hazuki was enough to confirm the truth.

Sanae stood. Looking at Jiro, she said, "I will not ask for forgiveness. Whatever punishment we had earned from our sins had been paid in full long ago. If you want us to suffer further, then that blood is on your hands."

She stood and bowed. "If you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend. Yayoi will handle the rest."

123123

As I watched the door Sanae closed, I wondered what other matters an undead woman in a prison of ruin could possibly have.

"She's very proud," Yayoi said, guessing my question. "Speaking of the past has taken a lot out of her. To top everything, what Jiro said about Kana keeping the council and inheritance a secret means that elder brother was still hoping for reconciliation, and confirms something that we had suspected for a while."

While Yayoi spoke, Hazuki and Uzuki had loosened one of the wall panels and together uncovering the door to a shop.

Yayoi had taken the lamp from the table. "Gentlemen, if you would follow me."

Inside the shop was as rundown as I expected. Shelves were covered in dust and debris, and lose bits of building material littered the floor. The strange part was that I couldn't tell what kind of shop it used to be. Nothing was left displayed. There were only three of us in the shop, the other two sisters opting to stay behind.

As we walked to the back of the shop, Yayoi spoke. "Unlike Sanae, I have no interest in family honor or prestige. To me, the bottom yen is precisely the bottom yen. I supported her because I saw an opportunity to take back the money that Kana had so carelessly spent."

"Father helped a lot of people with that money," Jiro defended.

She waved him off. "He probably contributed to the happiness of many, and a fat lot of good a fat wad is going to do me in the afterlife. If I were still alive, maybe we'd be having a different conversation, but that's how the market crumbles."

Positioning the lamp, she illuminated a set of earthen steps going downwards. "I dedicated my life to study, getting a double economics and business major. The district deal was even going to be a case study in my master's thesis—heavily edited of course," she said, smiling crookedly at her own joke.

We followed the steps down to a tunnel. Besides the lantern light, the faint yellow glow was back. Jiro had noticed it too.

"How can Funako no Ko be here?" he asked. "Taint has killed all the roots outside the nest."

The tunnel brightened as we got deeper. There was another source of light.

"That is a mystery that you're better qualified to solve than anyone else." Yayoi stopped. "And here's your clue." Stepping aside, she allowed us to get a clear view of a glowing fountain. It was flowing with the same golden liquid that burned in Yayoi's lamp.

I dipped in a finger. It was lukewarm, and slid off the skin like mercury.

Jiro felt the stone. "This is Taishou era stonework." He looked at Yayoi skeptically, "You built this?"

Yayoi rolled her eyes. "Please, the house upstairs was the best us four sisters could do in four decades. Even if we had the skill, we don't have the tools. Look harder."

The fountain was a basin type with a spout shooting up the middle. The stonework was sharp, and the outlines more prominent. Because light was coming off the strange liquid, and the roots, lighting was uneven and hid a lot in shadow. Borrowing the lamp from Yayoi, I illuminated the fountain's base.

"Jiro," I said, "look at this."

On the stone, carved in intricately fine detail were places in the arcade. I recognized the tanuki gathered on the first walkway that Haruhi and I had explored, and a carving of Tatsura Inn. More amazing was how Funaho no Ko grew into the carvings, its roots highlighting aspects of the stonework.

Jiro went to his knees, stunned. "Human hands couldn't have created this… but I know my father's work when I see it. The ways he textures his carvings is unique. If it were only one or two elements, then I could say that it was a brilliant forge or something I made, but everything from the fur on the tanuki to the line patterns on the leaves match his other carvings perfectly."

"So Kana decided to throw us a lifeline- even after everything," Yayoi said. "The liquid you see in the fountain is actually enchanted gold, or to be more precise, the spirit of value.

We used to live on the second floor of this shop, and we ran here when the arcade was sealed. The light from the gold warms our spirits in the most literal way. Without it, we would have lost ourselves to madness, reduced to our basest desires. We know this to be true because of what my sisters and I feel whenever we're away from the light for too long. The taint corrupts by sucking away the value in our souls."

She checked her watch. "An hour and a half before midnight- that's when the agreement and its guardian will appear. You have a choice to make, Jiro: Help us destroy the settlement agreement, and free us, or gather your mother and leave the arcade. Whichever you choose, please hurry, you don't have much time."

She turned around and left us to ourselves.

123123

Jiro sat at the fountains lip, hands clasped as though in prayer. "After all these years, I finally get some answers. Can't the world wait? Just for a day?" The Tatsura heir rested his forehead against his knuckles. "I need time to understand, to accept… to grieve."

I stayed quiet. Rushing would only waste time. What would I do in Jiro's place? The differences between us were too large for me to make a fair decision.

"You know the saddest part?" he said with a trace of bitter humor. "I already know what must be done. But I hate them so much. A few eloquent words won't change that. They took away my home, and cost my mother her sanity."

Running his fingers across the fountain's golden pool, he asked, "Do you know where the spirit of value comes from, Ranma? I just figured it out."

I shook my head.

"Everything in the arcade is a balance. The crows formed because there was an excess of greed in this reality. My father would not have allowed that evil to leak into the real world, which left them one other alternative—create a good that can dispel evil.

On the first week of every summer, fermentation of the Water of Life is completed, and a procession forms. Other-worldly beings put aside their differences and proffer gold as payment for a taste of divine wine. In this arcade, even gods and demons walk the same street and share the same cup without a hint of enmity. These are the sentiments enchanting every ounce of gold that disappear into wooden bowls all over the arcade. I didn't know where all that money was going, until today."

"This fountain is my father's kindness. While Funaho no Ko is locked in a stalemate against the heart of the taint, his will made it possible for my aunts to survive their torment with souls intact."

I blinked as comprehension dawned. "So the gold is why the roots glow. Funaho no Ko has been trying to purify the taint."

"If he loved them so much that even in death, he would protect them. Why would my father have liquidated the Tatsura fortune and ruin their lives?

Right now, what I hate my aunts for the most is bearing witness to Kana Tatsura's imperfections. I've idolized him for most of my life. He saved me from the streets, healed the wounds that couldn't be seen, and benefited countless people in the district he saved, but he was mortal. He could also be short-sighted, distant, and the cause of indescribable pain to the people he loved the most."

I could tell that he wasn't speaking only of his aunts. For all the hate and anger he possessed, and the suffering he endured, Jiro had made the decision I was hoping for.

"Maybe sometimes, it's okay to do the right thing for the wrong reasons," I said. My words would not resolve his issues, but at least this way he could have the time that he so desperately needed.

123123

The four sisters sat at the table, silently sharing the remaining lamp. Reflections of the flame danced against their eyes like the dull shine of the moon on a shallow pool. They stood as I approached.

"Where's Jiro?" Yayoi asked.

"Still at the fountain," I said. "He needed to be alone."

"I never wanted this," the youngest whispered.

"Uzuki…" Sanae warned, stepping towards her.

The youngest sister hid behind Hazuki, who covered her further. "She's only said what we're all thinking. This is our first real hope in decades, and it's in the hands of a nephew who would sooner put a chisel through our throats than save us."

"Why did you have to tell him about how Kana screwed up?" Uzuki asked, grabbing at the collar of her own kimono to restrain herself. "We could have begged for his help. Is your damned pride worth an eternity in this hell?"

Sanae's posture straightened, adding a couple of inches to her height. "My pride- our pride let us stand among the men and women who would move the country."

Uzuki sneered at her sister in disgust. Seeming to decide that it was a lost cause, she shifted her attention to me. "Mr. Suzumiya, he seems to listen to you, isn't there anything you could do to convince him?"

"That won't be necessary."

Everyone turned towards the shop door. Jiro stepped from the shadows into the room.

"Then…" A smile began to form on Hazuki and Uzuki's face, but Jiro's glared stopped them short.

"Sanae," he said, purposefully leaving out her honorific as her aunt. "You said that you will not ask for forgiveness. That suits me just fine. I will not- cannot give it. Though if for some reason, that twisted heart of yours decides to be grateful, then thank father. It was only his love for you all that kept me from deciding to leave."

That wasn't strictly true, but I wasn't going to begrudge Jiro his white lie.

He faced Yayoi. "You said that the agreement would have a guardian. How much time do we have left? And tell us everything you know. All this garbage will be an even bigger waste of life if we don't defeat whatever it is."

"Looks like I'll be asking for one last favor," he said to me apologetically.

I smirked. "And miss all the fun?"

123123

It was a quarter hour 'til midnight. An eerie stillness filled the courtyard outside the house. The piles of junk that Jiro and I had passed earlier marked the ground like the outlines of fresh burial mounds.

"The crows have disappeared," Yayoi said. "They're gathering."

"Are you sure about this?" Jiro asked, referring to the plan for what seemed like the tenth time in the last ten minutes.

"No sweat," I said with confidence I didn't have. My reserves were still low and we had no idea what our opponent could do. I shook my head free of thoughts. At times like this, the best thing to do is give it your and hang the consequences.

Yayoi had called it the Raven King because it was bigger and smarter than a regular crow. As a matter of fact, it was a combination of several crows.

Yayoi crossed her arms over her stomach, hugging herself. "When the Raven King appears, so will the settlement agreement. You will have to draw the King away from the agreement so that Jiro can destroy it. My sisters and I will stay inside the house. Are you sure that you don't want our help?"

I nodded. "I'll need the room. Having more people on the field will make it harder." The courtyard was the size of two high school gyms, and I would need every square meter.

Flapping. Crows flew in from every direction, the sounds of their flight mixing into a loud thrum.

"Good Luck," Yayoi said before retreating into the house.

A writhing red fog seeped from the mounds of junk, creating ribbons of scarlet that coalesced in the middle of the courtyard. Soon the fog had gathered so thickly that it was impossible to tell what was happening within.

The red fog rolled and twisted violently, and then broke apart and faded into nothing. At the center of where the fog had concentrated was a giant throne where a stack of papers an inch thick rested. The agreement!

I started to move, but before I could get close enough, speeding crows diving faster than I'd ever seen them dive before struck the agreement, dissolving into a viscous dark liquid on contact. The ball of black floated an inch above the paper, rippling and churning as more and more crows were swallowed into its dark depths.

The crows ran out in seconds, but the black ball had expanded to the size of a small two room townhouse. And then it took shape, producing talons and a serrated beak as large as the nosecone to a bullet train.

It wasn't the largest enemy I've ever faced, Happosai had died years ago, but I still remember his supersize technique. It was really more for show than anything else considering the massive amounts of ki used. This malevolent energy, however, was another pit of cats entirely.

The black ooze solidified, absorbing itself as the form of a humungous bird with misshapen wings that closely resembled human arms separated from the sticky sphere. When the transformation was complete, the result was a cross between a Neanderthal and a crow. The sloping forehead and beady eyes matched the tiny crown resting on a disproportionately large head.

What made the whole thing more surreal was that the Raven king was wearing clothes- the undersized tatters of a prince's costume complete with a demonic silver epaulet encrusted with human skulls, and a suit that could not hide a large, round belly.

Jiro and I stood transfixed as the Raven King's rotated its head until its eyes stopped on us, what smelled like rancid oil dripped in copious, foamy globs from its open beak while a thin tongue danced among the serrations. I watched as its brow came together like the collision of glaciers.

It roared.

"I think it knows who we are. Run!"

We ran in opposite directions, following the perimeter of the courtyard. As I ran, I noticed that the Raven King was moving after Jiro.

Picking up as many hard and pointy objects as I could from the ground, I started hurling them at the monster.

"Hey, you buzzard, I'm over here!" I said, punctuating my insult with a tarnished brass candle holder to the back of the head.

The crow swung around, and roared again, then charged, junk launching into the air as the bird plowed through the piles.

Good. I got its attention. Now to make sure it's nice and busy….

"STOP" I held out a hand with such supreme bravado that the crow backpedalled to a halt. Yayoi had been right- it was smart enough to understand language.

Arms to me side help parallel to the ground, I stomped, kicking up an impressive cloud of dust.

"HaaaaaaAAAAaaaaaaAAaaaaa," the earth beneath my feet shook, and a visible corona of faint blue ki enveloped my body.

"Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts Final Attack!" I shot out like a speeding bullet towards my gigantic opponent.

The Raven King reacted by sending a fist-like wing hurtling in my direction. I pressed on, fearless and determined.

"Duck," I said, crouching just enough to feel its feathers as the massive wing harmlessly passed overhead.

"Turn," pivoting smoothly on one foot, my back was to the raven before it could even stop its punch.

"Runaway!" I withdrew like the wind.

The Raven King paused, blinked, and bellowed in anger with such force that the windows around the nest cracked further.

Large furrows were ripped into the dirt as the Raven King's talons pushed for greater speed. I jumped over another punch.

"You call that a punch? I've seen better punches at a charity dinner!"

I bounced a few rocks off its beak for good measure. That's it Kingy, get distracted.

The plan was simple: Since I didn't have the energy to take the Raven King down outright, I would draw it away while Jiro slipped in and destroyed the agreement from right under its beak.

The only living Tatsura heir had gotten down, and had been crawling out of sight towards his goal. He was only a few meters away.

The Raven King must have noticed that I had been distracted because it swung around, and followed my line of sight right towards Jiro. Crap! It really was a lot smarter!

With a large breath, the Raven King's chest expanded like an airbag. Oh no, not that move!

"Take cover!" I yelled desperately, knowing that it was useless, but right before the shockwave was released, someone shoved him out of the way.

A body blurred as it was blown back like a plastic bag in a tornado, cartwheeling until it was stopped by an impact against the courtyard's inside ring.

The Raven King saw that it missed, and it was going to create another shockwave. I was about to run towards it when my foot hit a set of familiar barrels. The Water of Life!

"Do it!" I yelled at Jiro.

The Tatsura heir, who had been turning in the direction of his savior, regained his bearings, and pulled a glass lamp from his tool belt. Lighting the wick with a match, he prepared to throw.

I heard the Raven King draw another breath.

"Oh no you don't!" I kicked six barrels of purifying wine at the Raven King's neck. The flying barrels shattered on impact, eating through enough of the monster to prevent the attack. At the same time, Jiro hit his mark, the lamp smashed against the throne, engulfing the agreement in flames.

With the source of its magic purified in fires fueled by the spirit of value, the Raven King slowly melted into a mix of black ooze and dying crows.

But there would be no celebration. At one end of the courtyard, Yayoi, Hazuki, and Uzuki watched as Jiro cradled a badly broken Sanae in his arms.

"Why did you save me?" he asked, angrily. "Why couldn't you have stayed in the house?"

"Because only I should bear the cost of my pride," she said, her eyes filling with one final spark of determination before fading completely.

As the last of the agreement burned to nothing, the four sisters lost form, their bodies glowing gold like the light that had sustained them for so long.

"If we meet your father, we'll tell him of how you saved us," Yayoi said before she and her sisters disappeared in the coming daylight.

123123

Jiro and I walked to the inn, his left arm slung over my shoulder. We were exhausted after an entire night battling crows. On the bright side, the air was fresh, and the arcade was beautiful. Light, unadulterated by taint, gently touched our surroundings, revealing infinite hues of green and brown that soothed my tired eyes.

"So… what are you going to do now?" I asked.

"I haven't fully decided yet," he answered, looking into the distance. "Maybe I'll stay and continue this arcade. Perhaps I'll even find a way to join this place back to the real world."

"Don't you already have your answers?" He had spent the better part of his life chasing after his father's shadow. I wished that he would finally live for his own sake.

He shook his head. "Even now, there are still questions. I'll never know what spurred my father to spend all his family's wealth to save the district and its people. You may find this laughable, but until this happened, I believed that my father was simply born a good man."

"There's nothing wrong with having dreams," I said.

"There are dreams, and then there are illusions. My aunt's account was of a normal man, as prone to mistakes as the rest of us. I may come to terms given time, but it's not a process I'd recommend to anyone, especially when it can be avoided," Jiro said.

I remembered his objection to how I treated Haruhi. "What exactly do you want me to do?" I asked, "Tell her that magic and monsters are real? I want her to have a life where she doesn't have to be constantly on guard for the next insane rival, random curse, or demonic summon. When you stepped into this arcade, Jiro, the crows entered your life. Are you saying that you want something that dangerous to happen to her too?"

He shook his head. "I had to save my mother. But what I do want you to see is that I stayed because I needed to find the truth about my father. Maybe I don't know either of you that well. However, I can tell that Haruhi cares for you. You can't predict the future, Ranma. If Haruhi finds another mysterious place after seeing a hint of this side of you, she might go looking for answers on her own."

We continued walking in silence. Jiro was right, but not in the way he expected. I may have protected Haruhi from too much, leaving her open to other dangers just as Kana had.

123123

Haruhi stood at the inn's front gate, switching between folding her arms, and glancing impatiently at her watch.

"LATE!" she proclaimed, stomping towards us.

Seeing us up close, her eyes widened in surprise. Jiro and I must have looked pretty bad, covered in torn cloths, scrapes, and dirt. She plastered her frown back on.

"Super late! If you're going on a crusade against bad guys, you should finish things quickly and immediately!"

"Uh, okay." I agreed, not really sure how to react.

Haruhi walked up and pushed her face against my chest so only the top of her head was in view.

"Oof," I flinched reflexively at the punch to the gut. It didn't really hurt, she had been holding back. Haruhi held her fist in place. Jiro stepped away under his own power, and was heading inside to give us privacy. "Fool…" she said, hiding herself in my dirty shirt.

Haruhi was wearing a pair of strapped sandals. Her heels had become mildly swollen. Putting a gentle hand on her back, I guided her to a nearby bench. "C'mon, let's go sit over there."

"How long were you out here?" I asked, concerned. There was a chill in the air.

"Humph, like I'd stay out here waiting for you! I just woke up," she said, turning her back to me.

The sudden change made me blink. Which one was it? Was she worried or not? I lowered my head in resignation, daughters….

"How did it go?" Haruhi asked.

I blinked. "Well, I guess. The bad guys are gone."

Haruhi grabbed the front of my shirt. "Fighting that armed gang was hard and dangerous right? You did something special. Be more proud of yourself!"

"How am I supposed to find a moment to brag when I'm too busy figuring out my confusing daughter?" I said lightly.

Haruhi let go, distancing herself. I think I put my foot in it again.

"Do I really get in the way?" She asked, hurt plainly in her voice.

"No, Haruhi, I was…" I trailed off, realizing the absurdity of it all. She really was afraid. Nabiki and I had insulated her from our true selves so much that Haruhi had formed her own answers based on insecurity. Even her philosophy about boring people was derived from the fact that she was largely unaware of what had caused the difficulties between Nabiki and I. Little by little; I was beginning to understand how my daughter thought.

To Haruhi, people were not 'boring' because they had dull and uninteresting personalities. She considered them boring because they forced themselves to blend in. They followed the rules, acted happy even though they weren't, and were miserable for it. Boring people were chained down by the opinions of others, too afraid to think and act for themselves. Nabiki was brilliant and fascinating, but that didn't save her from becoming a boring person in Haruhi's eyes.

Interesting people, on the other hand, didn't necessarily have to be strange or quirky in some way. What Interesting people possessed was the courage to break the chains of common expectation, and do what they needed to make themselves happy. When I asked Haruhi for her permission to help Jiro, Haruhi had accepted because it aligned with how she thought an interesting person would act. All in all, it was a good way to look at the world. The only aspect Haruhi had trouble accepting was that even boring people mattered.

"I owe you an apology, Haruhi."

She stared, puzzled. "For what?"

"All this time, I've been so busy considering what I want for you that I'd completely neglected providing what you need."

Gently taking her hands in mine, I looked into her eyes. "No matter what happens, please believe that you're the best thing in my life."

"You… really mean that?"

"Martial Artist's honor," I swore.

Haruhi responded with a smile. I turned her hands over, examining them- so soft, so small, and yet so capable. "I didn't want you to feel any pain, so I hid what's happening between your mother and me from you. I know now that's wrong. There's so much I want to tell you, but I'm not really ready yet, and I don't even know where to start, so I'll tell you about what's happening in three days."

"Remember that blueprint that you found me working on late two nights ago?"

"Yeah," Haruhi said, "Why were you working at home?"

"It's because that blueprint is like a personal project… for you mother's new boyfriend."

"I see," Haruhi said, looking at the cobbles under her feet. After a moment, she asked, "What's he like?"

"Big, powerful, rich," I said. "A corporate suit type. I'm not going to go into the details—they're too long and complicated. What's important is that I can tell he loves you mother, and he's gone through a lot of trouble to ask for my help so that it works out."

"You're okay with that?" Haruhi asked, stunned.

The question caught me off guard. I forced myself to dig deep. Haruhi and I lived together, but we weren't alone. We had people who cared about us like Mom, Kasumi, Mikuru and Kyoko, heck even my jerk of a boss Yamazaki. At that realization, I smiled. "I think I am," I said, "how about you?"

Haruhi was frozen for a moment. Two wet tracks formed down her cheeks. "I'm not," she said honestly. "Mother left us. She betrayed us, and now I hate her for what she's done." She looked at me, the pain and anger in her eyes as clear as daylight. "But I still love her."

"I still love her too."

Unable to say anything more, I brought her into a hug. Haruhi cried long and hard. I cried too, shedding the tears that I'd been holding back since the day Nabiki walked out on our family.

We sat there for a while, holding each other until all the hurt washed away. I knew this wouldn't be the end, but at least it was a beginning. After cleaning up, we said our goodbyes to Jiro, who gave me a cask of the Water of Life, and an invitation to come again. We crossed the bridge without incident, and after calling the school so that Haruhi could take the day off, had brunch before spending an easy day around town.

That night, happier than I had been in a long time, I sat in front of the drafting table to work. I finally had my answer. Leaning towards a clean sheet, I worked with certainty, the lines almost drawings themselves. For it was a place that I'd never forget- every tile, every board, and every nail an old friend.

123123

Two blocks away from the apartment was a small community garden. The lot had been donated by a wealthy motorcycle designer whose wife loved gardening. She was foreign and extremely beautiful. The trees and flowers under her care grew strong and vibrant. Her open secret was a singing voice so divine that it was said to make even angels weep. Dressed in coveralls and a wide straw hat, she would sing as she worked, weaving the kind of magic you couldn't get through arcane means.

The couple had moved away long ago, but there were still people who remembered them fondly.

I had volunteered a few times when the soil needed turning. As a result, I learned what time of year the lemon tree bore fruit.

Humming tunelessly, I strolled home carrying a paper bag of my pickings. The afternoons were getting hotter, and I thought that making a pitcher of ice-cold Saotome Honey Lemon Drink would hit the spot for Haruhi and Mikuru.

How does one make Saotome Honey Lemon Drink you ask? Well, first you cut the lemons into half centimeter thin slices, and then dump all the slices into a giant water-tight container. Cover the slices in honey, and leave in the fridge for six to eight hours, making sure to flip the container midway through so that the honey can draw juice from all the lemons.

Eventually, juice will rise to the top, and you can add that to water. After mixing thoroughly, we can finally add the hidden secret that completes the most refreshing drink in town- chill with Soul of Ice!

"…"

Leave me alone, I invented this a long time ago.

Continuing home, I paid little attention to the rustling of leaves and the rumble of cars. It was as perfect and peaceful as a day could get: All my work was done, Haruhi was more or less happy, and there were no pressing emergencies on any front.

Yup, sunshine and roses all around….

I should have known that today would be too good to last.

The world came to a stop. There was a total absence of sound and movement, as though a higher power had pressed the pause button on the universal remote control of the… err… universe before a blinding light caused me to shield my eyes.

When I could see again, I was in the middle of a desert. Sand stretched out in every direction with nothing marking the landscape except dunes. Above was an endless expanse of cloudless blue sky.

"Next! Try! Again!" a male voice called out.

I threw my body into a series of back-flips, barely getting clear as three rapid impacts hit the ground where I had been moment ago. My hands sank into a loose patch of sand, robbing me of control before a solid wall of force blasted me into the air.

Wincing, I rolled with the shockwave, and landed on my feet, arms raised in a defensive stance. My attackers had appeared- a boy and girl about Haruhi's age.

"As expected of Ms. Suzumiya's father, not a scratch," the boy said in a smooth and easy-going voice with looks to match. He had long brown bangs that fell rakishly over piercing walnut eyes. His clothing was nothing special, sporting a white collared short-sleeve, pink tie, and brown pants, but he still looked like he just stepped out of a teen fashion magazine.

The girl beside him stood a silent opposite to her partner, barely radiating any presence. Her pale lilac hair was cut short, complementing her complexion. She was wearing a girl's sailor uniform in the North High colors of aquamarine trimmed with red. She seemed average except the overwhelming aura of stillness that she projected.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to puzzle out their identities. Could they be Haruhi's classmates? I'd never met them before. A memory bubbled to the surface. These two were in some of the photographs in Mikuru's room!

"The Brigade…" I said to myself.

The boy tilted his head. "Did your daughter speak of us?" Holding a palm up, he summoned a beach ball sized sun. I could feel heat radiating from the floating sphere, about the intensity of a small campfire, but couldn't detect any ki. I had heard of elemental users who could manipulate their chosen medium at will. Unlike martial arts, this type of ability was purely a mental process that didn't require life energy.

"My Name is Itsuki Koizumi, and my stoic friend is Yuki Nagato. As you have deduced, we are in fact members of your daughter's brigade, the SOSdan."

"Somehow, I don't think Haruhi put you up to this."

"Correct again," the boy named Koizumi said. "Your daughter's brilliance must have come from your side of the family."

I sweated, unused to an opponent who attacked and flattered at the same time.

"As for why we're here, I'd like to say that Ms. Nagato and I are moving of the same accord. Unfortunately that would be patently false. For now, let us say that our interests are parallel, but not identical."

Floating the mini sun between his hands, he pulled it apart into two smaller ones. "Death and Rebirth!" He sent the twin shots rocketing. They were the same attack that had struck before, but he used an entirely different set of names. Maybe it was a condition of his ability.

I leaned lazily to one side, letting the fireballs pass harmlessly. He had surprised me before, but a full frontal attack was laughably easy to evade. Koizumi did look like he had some training, but it wasn't for the type of fighting that suited his ability. If I were to guess, he probably took Taekwondo, but the movements he used to fire off his attacks were more similar to volleyball spikes.

"Fighting me isn't a very good idea," I said while cracking my neck, "You have no idea who you're up against." Beating up on two high school students wasn't exactly high on my list of things to accomplish.

Koizumi's smile was sickeningly charming. "Ranma Suzumiya, formerly Ranma Saotome, son of Genma and Nodoka Saotome. Records are sparse because the schools attended were usually on the lower end of the rankings. You travelled extensively in your youth through Japan and China. Some say you did it for the mastery of the martial arts. However, no evidence of your prowess has ever been recorded save for a brief stint with the Hitotsubashi University Judo team where you remained undefeated until your resignation six months later."

This guy really liked the sound of his own voice. He had just revealed that he had absolutely nothing on me.

"Give up. I don't want to hurt either of you," I said.

"Perhaps you should worry about yourself."

I sighed. No choice. Dashing in, I aimed a knife-hand at the back of Koizumi's neck for a quick and painless knockout.

"What the-" my hand met a translucent white rippling dome. Again, no ki. This was getting annoying. They should have given me a list of abilities.

"Cadenza!" The high school boy launched another fireball at point blank- this time as large as a beanbag chair.

Reinforcing my legs with ki, I pushed off the attacks surface before it struck the ground. The resulting explosion swallowed a ten meter diameter sphere of desert, producing a noticeable rush of wind as the air moved reacted to the dramatic change in pressure.

When the sand settled, Koizumi and the girl Nagato were standing on a small circular floating island in the middle of the crater. Nagato's mouth moved rapidly, and the sand that had been blown away slammed into existence- all at once like it denied being gone in the first place.

During my travels with Pop, we would visit Shinto temples. One of my favorite pastimes was to listen to priests tell tales of the legendary heroes of their religion, the true onmyouji. The most spiritually gifted of these individuals could bend objects to their will.

My eyes narrowed. I had been focusing on the boy when the key to the battle was acting as his support. Nagato's ability to summon this desert and manipulate the environment was similar to some of the stories I had heard.

Koizumi hadn't even been able to follow my last attack so the shield was either a passive ability or a spell cast by Nagato.

Running sideways, I scooped a surviving lemon out of the sand and slung it at my target like an outfielder with a baseball. The throw was telegraphed so that Koizumi would dodge. As planned, the high school boy bobbed, letting the yellow projectile zip towards its intended target. Instead of making contact, the citrus hung in the air, surrounded by a translucent ripple before being ejected. Separate shields were cast over both. There was still no way to tell for sure who the source was, but I was willing to bet it was the girl.

Hand-to-hand wasn't going to take them down. That shield was making them untouchable. I had to do something about that.

I ran in for another close attack. Koizumi was waiting with fireballs in hand.

He split his attack into ten smaller suns, one hovering over each finger, and sent it towards me in rapid succession. Unlike my Dance of Fireflies, the fireballs lacked the ability to change direction. Sand erupted like geysers around me as I sped towards the pair.

I vaulted over the boy, taking advantage of his shield's effect to launch myself at towards Nagato. Maybe a more direct method could get the job done.

"Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken!" I unleashed a hail of punches at the shield. The ripples spread and overlapped changing translucent white to opaque. Unable to get through, I channeled more ki, and cracks appeared spreading through the shield as though it were made of brittle stone.

I was about to land the finishing blow when my danger sense warned me to disengage. A man-sized red comet missed by a hair as it flashed through the space where I had been only seconds ago.

The red energy dissipated, revealing Koizumi. Green lightning wrapped around his body, writhing like electricity come alive.

"I apologize for using such a dangerous form, but I had to prevent you from interrupting Ms. Nagato," he said amiably. He hadn't said a thing to trigger the attack. To make things more complicated, Koizumi seemed to have more than one affinity.

Nagato's voice was soft and emotionless. "Phase two sampling of Subject Ranma Saotome complete: Confirmed small-scale unrestricted data generation. Accessing data marker sample." She cupped her hands, and an object was imposed layer by layer into existence. When it was complete, a familiar looking mallet with a red band hovered in the air." It was probably the same one that I had seen in Mikuru's possession.

"Unpacking sample." The mallet's red strip leapt off the surface and then disappeared into an invisible hole in the space above it.

Whatever she was doing, I had to stop her.

I flung a high-speed Mokou Takabisha at Koizumi. To my surprise, his shield was gone and the lightning around his body did nothing to stop the attack. It must have disappeared when he activated his ability, which was further proof that Nagato had been casting the shields. The high school boy, not expecting the attack, was hit square in the chest, thrown back like a puppet with its strings cut.

Nagato's eyes suddenly went into sharp focus. Throughout the battle, she had been staring out in the space almost ignoring the exchanges I had been having with Koizumi. Another round of inaudible lip movement, and then, "Calling data jurisdiction functions."

The space between us suddenly felt heavy and turned monochromatic, and I stumbled. The split-second misstep delayed me long enough for Koizumi to get back into the fight with a lightning laced high kick.

I leaned back, barely saving my eyebrows as the air singled inches from my face.

Koizumi swung his leg to follow. I arched my back, not daring to block. If the sand blackening under his feet was any indication, I didn't want to get hit dead on. I could use a ki reinforcement technique on my arms, but the lightning was a lot more concentrated than his fireballs. I might end up missing appendages.

Slamming a palm on the patch of sand near his feet, performed a modified Bakusai Tenketsu with five fingers. The energy lanced into the ground, and transformed the sand found his leg into a loose patch, similar to what had happened to my arm at the beginning of the fight.

With his other leg in the air, Koizumi fell on his rear, one leg buried knee deep in sand.

I was considering burying the rest of him, when Koizumi summoned another fireball, and kicked it with his free leg. The kick was awkward, but the fireball sped towards me at four times its normal speed.

Using my hands, I pushed hard, corkscrewing feet first into the air. More sand was sent flying. I pressed my lips together tightly to avoid getting any of it in my mouth.

Squinting, I saw Koizumi pulling out his trapped leg. Building the ki into a crescendo, I concentrated them between my palms. He was going down.

"Mokou Takabisha!" Unlike the previous energy ball, this one was fully charged with enough power to pulverize building supports.

It was, quite honestly, overkill. That lightning was scary though, and there was one other factor…

The sound of two powers colliding roared as a white shield materialized around Koizumi once more. Nagato was diverting her full attention to protecting her companion.

But I was ready. Timing a second weaker Mokou Takabisha, I launched it just as the shield was going through the motions of ejecting my first attack. The spell, unable to compensate for the unexpected extra load, buckled and inverted. Fortunately for Koizumi, I had aimed slightly to the left so that he would be spared a direct hit.

While the boy was busy tumbling like a load of laundry, I landed. I dashed towards Nagato, chestnut at the ready. The fight would be over soon- I already had the trick to breaking through her shield.

Nagato calmly turned her to me, and I felt it, an almost imperceptible tug. My muscles tensed, but my body had completely frozen. I couldn't even open my mouth. There was a presence, something alien had latched onto my ki, preventing my body from moving. She must have finished casting the spell!

A minute passed before Koizumi came into view, dusting himself off. "I take it you succeeded, Nagato. What's next?"

"Searching for data fragments originating from Haruhi Suzumiya. Detecting high concentrations of conflicting data. Analysis has encountered unexpected resistance, switching base algorithms."

I was trapped. From what I could tell they were trying to find something. The alien presence in my ki was squirming, trying to work its way in. I had to break free.

Onmyouji techniques relied on a resonance with objects and nature, but it seemed like Nagato was trying to go further by creating resonance with my body. The mallet must have acted like some sort of conduit- a lot like the way a voodoo doll worked. I wasn't about to stand there and let her take control.

There was one technique that might help. For a while now, I'd been searching for a way to make the things around me tougher so I could train with more freedom. Martial artists had the ability to make their clothes more durable simply by training in them and letting the pattern of their life energy soak through. My idea was to accelerate the process and spread the pattern through an entire area, allowing training in more devastating arts while minimizing or eliminating collateral damage altogether. It was a technique that would have never belonged to Ranma Saotome.

I focused on the core of my body, and then readied the modified patterns I needed. As a child, I had tried to learn the ways of onmyoudo, but quickly found that I had no talent for harmonizing with my surroundings. However, that didn't mean I took nothing away from the experience. The talent I possessed was my stubbornness. An onmyouji required no ki, though he did have the ability to harmonize with existing ki and shape it for his ends. What developed was a system to saturate objects with my ego and use that as a lever to get the properties I want.

Since it was already the source of my ki, I didn't have much work to do unlike with an egg or a cask of wine. In theory, reinforcing the pattern of my body would make me more 'permanent' by increasing its natural resistance to external influences.

With a mental push, I sent energy down my entire body. Nagato suddenly lurched as though struck by a punch to the face. The alien presence was gone. I was free.

"All right wise guys, this stops NOW," I said summoning a Mokou Takabisha.

Koizumi had caught Nagato and was already waving a white handkerchief. "You've won, Mr. Suzumiya. We surrender unconditionally."

"…eh?"

123123

Nagato, Koizumi and I sat in the kitchen. The rules of propriety dictated that they would be given drinks so I served lemonade, but I made sure what they got was lukewarm.

After they surrendered, Nagato had dispelled the desert. The only onmyouji who could summon alternate spaces were also hunters who used the technique to seal demons. I mentally shuddered and counted myself lucky that she hadn't attempted to do the same to me.

"Well," I said leaning back on my chair, arms crossed. "You two have some explaining to do."

Koizumi placed a finger on his chin in mock thought. "I suppose we do owe you an explanation. The subject matter is a little complicated, however, so I beg your patience in this regard."

I waved him along, "Yeah, get on with it."

"Are you familiar with Schrodinger?" He asked.

"I've heard the name before in school, but not much else. Is this going to be long?"

"I'll try to simplify as much as possible. Schrodinger developed a thought experiment, which involves putting an animal in a box with a mechanism that would randomly determine whether or not the animal would die within the hour. By the end of the hour, we could say that the animal is either alive or dead, but likely not some phase in between."

This guy was seriously getting on my nerves. "If you want to know whether or not the animal is alive, why don't you open the box?"

Koizumi tapped the table. "Precisely, Mr. Suzumiya. We should just open the box, and see for ourselves!"

Knock!

The high school boy was now the proud owner of a brand new lump. Koizumi rubbed at his head. "I suppose I deserved that."

"So you're telling me that the reason you attacked me was to make sure of something," I said impatiently. "What?"

Nagato spoke. "The series of small-scale unrestricted data flares originating from the rooftop of this apartment complex was determined to be of moderate interest, but did not result in significant data. Low intrusion surveillance was judged to be the optimum course of action. Recent events in Ashiadori thirty-six hours prior resulted in spikes of unrestricted offensive data. A more direct reevaluation was deemed essential."

"Ashiadori? The arcade…." Things were starting to make sense. Those 'data flares' she mentioned were probably related to my use of ki. Great, I was being watched because of my training. I'll have to deal with that later.

"Yes, a mysterious shopping arcade from what we could puzzle together," Koizumi took over. "Nagato and I were unable to pass through the dimensional gap that was the entrance. However, from outside, we detected several energy bursts matching your unique signature. We were concerned that an incident may have occurred."

I sighed. "In other words, you were worried something happened to Haruhi and decided to find out if everything was alright for yourselves. You could have just asked- and that still doesn't explain why you decided to attack me."

Koizumi shrugged. "We were afraid that the arcade may have affected your mind in some way. This isn't the first such event we've encountered. Besides, there are things one can only learn in the heat of battle."

I blinked, trying to make sense of a cold-blooded pretty boy making a hot-blooded statement. This was giving me a headache… stupid kids.

"Where does Mikuru fit in all this?" I asked, remembering the hammer. I figured Mikuru would have gone along with these two if for no other reason than to fit in.

"As Nagato mentioned earlier, you are the subject of 'moderate interest'. Ms. Asahina cooperated because she too believes that your daughter's safety is paramount."

"One last question—though I think I already know your answer."

"I'm happy to oblige."

"Does Haruhi know that you and Nagato?"

"I will assume you mean our abilities? No, she doesn't, and we prefer to keep that to ourselves. As charming as your daughter is, I think you will agree that is the most prudent action." After glancing at the wall clock, he said, "Ms. Suzumiya should be arriving shortly."

"Alright, go, but no more attacking people!"

I took their cups to the sink for washing. They found their own way out. There were inconsistencies in Koizumi's statements, and that strange Nagato girl was searching for traces of Haruhi in me while we were fighting. I also didn't like the slightly conspiratorial way Koizumi had spoken of keeping his and Nagato's powers a secret. On the other hand, I hadn't detected any hostile intent from them, not even while we were fighting. Knowledge gained from battle indeed….

In any case, they didn't seem harmful, and they really did seem to be looking out for Haruhi- as sketchy as their true motives were. If they went too far though, I'd be around to lay down the law.

You heard me right. I was definitely going to call their parents.

Haruhi arrived fifteen minutes after Nagato and Koizumi left. "Hey Pop, I won't be here for dinner!" She said tossing her school case by the door.

I turned off the TV. "Where you going?"

"Tutoring. They offered dinner too."

"You took the job!" I cheered.

"Well," she said, scratching the bridge of her nose. "I needed some extra money."

This was great. Haruhi was sure to see that teaching could be rewarding in its own right. I had fun whenever I visited Kyoko's kindergarten.

"Hey Pop…"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you become an architect?"

The question caught me a little off guard. Haruhi had never shown an interest in my work before. I took a moment to consider my answer.

"I wanted a job where I could make homes for people," I answered. It had been a dream of mine to see families living happily in a house of my design. "Somewhere along the line, I guess I forgot that. There's less money in houses than there are in office buildings and sky scrapers. They're enjoyable in their own way though."

"Maybe," Haruhi hesitated, playing with her hands behind her back. "Maybe you can start designing the things you like again—like Kana did."

Almost immediately, I could feel the words denying the possibility rush up my throat, but I stopped them. We were pretty well off, and it's not like I couldn't make room in my schedule to work on something fulfilling.

"You know what, Haruhi? I think I will."

Haruhi smiled brilliantly. "Good!" she said before heading out the door.

Patting the imaginary dust from my pants, I started off to my work table. "Okay, strike while the iron is hot!"

I already knew what my first project would be: A small two story house with a modest yard. The master bedroom would be downstairs. More ideas came to mind.

Today was shaping up to be a good day after all.

Author's Notes:

Hopefully, this chapter has shown how the plot threads come together. I realize that I should have built in mini-arcs that were better paced, but I wasn't skilled enough to write those while still maintaining the long-term vision. I will try to improve on that front.

Has anyone figured out what Ranma drew for Nabiki's house? If you have, I wonder why he would do such a thing….

I'd like to thank Fallacy for being my plot and editor monkey. He's spectacular.

Thank you also to TFF reviewer Inverted Helix for clearing up and observation. Spacebattles forum reviewers Old Soul for helping me improve the Nagato & Koizumi vs Ranma battle scene, and Cataquack Warri for forum help.


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